Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
With thee conversing I forget all time.
Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!
Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb, counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, not peace.
Boast not of what thou would’st have done, but do.
That virtue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental whiteness.
Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love In blissful solitude.
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.
Morn, Wak’d by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr’d the gates of light.
All seemed well pleased, all seemed, but were not all.
Have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea.
And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions, mixed with love and sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned union of mind, or in us both one soul.
Who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that whisper softness in chambers?
Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know? Can it be death?
What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.
And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.
Vanity is definitely my favorite sin.
Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half.
Should God create another Eve, and I Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no no, I feel The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh, Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.