His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure

Those Graceful Acts, Those Thousand Decencies, That Daily Flow From All Her Words And Actions, Mixed With Love And Sweet Compliance, Which Declare Unfeigned Union Of Mind, Or In Us Both One Soul.

Ere The Blabbing Eastern Scout, The Nice Morn, On Th' Indian Steep From Her Cabin'd Loop-hole Peep.

Our Torments Also May In Length Of Time Become Our Elements.

No Man Who Knows Aught, Can Be So Stupid To Deny That All Men Naturally Were Born Free.

Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible.