In Naked Beauty More Adorn'd, More Lovely

Zeal And Duty Are Not Slow But On Occasion's Forelock Watchful Wait.

Law Can Discover Sin, But Not Remove, Save By Those Shadowy Expiations Weak.

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

New Presbyter Is But Old Priest Writ Large.

Of Four Infernal Rivers That Disgorge/ Into The Burning Lake Their Baleful Streams;/abhorred Styx The Flood Of Deadly Hate,/sad Acheron Of Sorrow, Black And Deep;/cocytus, Nam'd Of Lamentation Loud/ Heard On The Rueful Stream; Fierce Phlegethon/ Whose Waves Of Torrent Fire Inflame With Rage./ Far Off From These A Slow And Silent Stream,/ Lethe The River Of Oblivion Rolls/ Her Wat'ry Labyrinth Whereof Who Drinks,/ Forthwith His Former State And Being Forgets,/ Forgets Both Joy And Grief, Pleasure And Pain.