Abash'd The Devil Stood, And Felt How

Execute Their Airy Purposes.

Sweet Is The Breath Of Morn, Her Rising Sweet, With Charm Of Earliest Birds.

But What More Oft In Nations Grown Corrupt, And By Their Vices Brought To Servitude, Than To Love Bondage More Than Liberty, Bondage With Ease Than Strenuous Liberty.

Nor Jealousy Was Understood, The Injur'd Lover's Hell.

Death Ready Stands To Interpose His Dart.