I Hate When Vice Can Bolt Her

My Mansion Is, Where Those Immortal Shapes Of Bright Aerial Spirits Live Insphered In Regions Mild Of Calm And Serene Air, Above The Smoke And Stir Of This Dim Spot Which Men Call Earth.

Perplexed And Troubled At His Bad Success The Tempter Stood, Nor Had What To Reply, Discovered In His Fraud, Thrown From His Hope.

O Dark, Dark, Dark, Amid The Blaze Of Noon, Irrecoverably Dark, Total Eclipse Without All Hope Of Day!

But All Was False And Hollow; Though His Tongue Dropp'd Manna, And Could Make The Worse Appear The Better Reason, 4 To Perplex And Dash Maturest Counsels.

Fairest Of Stars, Last In The Train Of Night, If Better Thou Belong Not To The Dawn.