Imparadis'd In One Another's Arms.

Now I See Peace To Corrupt No Less Than War To Waste.

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed, But, Swoln With Wind, And The Rank Mist They Draw, Rot Inwardly, And Foul Contagion Spread: Besides What The Grim Wolf With Privy Paw Daily Devours Apace, And Nothing Said; But That Two-handed Engine At The Door Stands Ready To Smite Once, And Smite No More.

But Say That Death Be Not One Stroke, As I Supposed, Bereaving Sense, But Endless Misery From This Day Onward, Which I Feel Begun Both In Me, And Without Me, And So Last To Perpetuity; Ay Me, That Fear Comes Thund'ring Back With Dreadful Revolution On My Defenceless Head; Both Death And I Am Found Eternal, And Incorporate Both, Nor I On My Part Single, In Me All Paradise Lost Posterity Stands Cursed: Fair Patrimony That I Must Leave Ye, Sons; O Were I Able To Waste It All Myself, And Leave Ye None!

This Is The Month, And This The Happy Morn, Wherein The Son Of Heaven's Eternal King, Of Wedded Maid And Virgin Mother Born, Our Great Redemption From Above Did Bring.

Flowers Of All Hue, And Without Thorn The Rose.