God Has Set Labor And

That Practis'd Falsehood Under Saintly Shew, Deep Malice To Conceal, Couch'd With Revenge.

Her Silent Course Advance With Inoffensive Pace, That Spinning Sleeps On Her Soft Axle.

Oft, On A Plat Of Rising Ground, I Hear The Far-off Curfew Sound Over Some Wide-watered Shore, Swinging Low With Sullen Roar.

Mammon, The Least Erected Spirit That Fell >from Heaven; For Ev'n In Heaven His Looks And Thoughts Were Always Downward Bent, Admiring More The Riches Of Heaven's Pavement, Trodden Gold, Than Aught Divine Or Holy Else Enjoy'd In Vision Beatific.

Hear All Ye Angels, Progeny Of Light, Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers.