John Milton

Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought

The better fight, who single hast maintained

Against revolted multitudes the cause

Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms.

In naked beauty more adorn'd,

More lovely than Pandora.

Hither, as to their fountain, other stars

Repairing, in their golden urns draw light.

In heavenly spirits could such perverseness dwell?

Midnight brought on the dusky hour

Friendliest to sleep and silence.

The starry cope

Of heaven.

Eased the putting off

These troublesome disguises which we wear.

The planets in their stations list'ning stood,

While the bright pomp ascended jubilant.

Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung,

Open ye heavens, your living doors; let in

The great Creator from his work returned

Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth

Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.

A wilderness of sweets.

Indu'd

With sanctity of reason.

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.