It Is Chastity, My Brother. She That

Our Torments Also May In Length Of Time Become Our Elements, These Piercing Fires As Soft As Now Severe, Our Temper Changed Into Their Temper.

And Fast By, Hanging In A Golden Chain, This Pendent World, In Bigness As A Star Of Smallest Magnitude, Close By The Moon.

Now Morn, Her Rosy Steps In Th' Eastern Clime Advancing, Sow'd The Earth With Orient Pearl, When Adam Wak'd, So Custom'd; For His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

Sweetest Echo, Sweetest Nymph, That Liv'st Unseen Within Thy Airy Shell, By Slow Meander's Margent Green, And In The Violet-embroidered Vale.

Behold Now This Vast City [london]; A City Of Refuge, The Mansion-house Of Liberty, Encompassed And Surrounded With His Protection.