Hail Holy Light, Offspring Of Heav'n Firstborn!

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

Heaven, The Seat Of Bliss, Brooks Not The Works Of Violence And War.

Anarchy Is The Sure Consequence Of Tyranny; For No Power That Is Not Limited By Laws Can Ever Be Protected By Them.

Revenge, At First Though Sweet, Bitter Ere Long Back On Itself Recoils.

Better To Reign In Hell Than Serve In Heav'n.