Beyond Is All Abyss, Eternity, Whose End

Hide Me From Day's Garish Eye, While The Bee With Honied Thigh, That At Her Flowery Work Doth Sing, And The Waters Murmuring With Such Consort As They Keep, Entice The Dewy-feathered Sleep.

If This Fail, The Pillar'd Firmament Is Rottenness, And Earth's Base Built On Stubble.

So Dear To Heaven Is Saintly Chastity, That, When A Soul Is Found Sincerely So, A Thousand Liveried Angels Lacky Her, Driving Far Off Each Thing Of Sin And Guilt.

Antichrist Is Mammon's Son.

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.