No Mighty Trance, Or Breathed Spell Inspires

So Dear I Love Him, That With Him, All Deaths I Could Endure, Without Him, Live No Life.

Th' Ethereal Mould Incapable Of Stain Would Soon Expel Her Mischief, And Purge Off The Baser Fire, Victorious. Thus Repuls'd, Our Final Hope Is Flat Despair.

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

At His Birth A Star, Unseen Before In Heaven, Proclaims Him Come.

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