Hell Has No Benefits, Only

New Presbyter Is But Old Priest Writ Large.

Who Shall Silence All The Airs And Madrigals That Whisper Softness In Chambers?

In Naked Beauty More Adorn'd, More Lovely Than Pandora.

The Strongest And The Fiercest Spirit That Fought In Heaven, Now Fiercer By Despair.

O Loss Of Sight, Of Thee I Most Complain! Blind Among Enemies, O Worse Than Chains, Dungeon Or Beggary, Or Decrepit Age! Light, The Prime Work Of God, To Me Is Extinct, And All Her Various Objects Of Delight Annulled, Which Might In Part My Grief Have Eased. Inferior To The Vilest Now Become Of Man Or Worm; The Vilest Here Excel Me, They Creep, Yet See; I, Dark In Light, Exposed To Daily Fraud, Contempt, Abuse And Wrong, Within Doors, Or Without, Still As A Fool, In Power Of Others, Never In My Own; Scarce Half I Seem To Live, Dead More Than Half.