What Hath Night To Do With Sleep?

And Fast By, Hanging In A Golden Chain, This Pendent World, In Bigness As A Star Of Smallest Magnitude, Close By The Moon.

With Diadem And Sceptre High Advanced, The Lower Still I Fall; Only Supreme In Misery; Such Joy Ambition Finds.

Ah, Why Should All Mankind For One Man's Fault, Be Condemned, If Guiltless?

Ease Would Recant Vows Made In Pain, As Violent And Void.

Tears Such As Angels Weep.