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Book 3.
Paradiſe loſt.
With other notes then to th' Orphean Lyre I ſung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav’nly Muſe to venture down The dark deſcent, and up to reaſcend, 20Though hard and rare: thee I reviſit ſafe, And feel thy ſovran vital Lamp; but thou Reviſit’ſt not theſe eyes, that rowle in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop ſerene hath quencht thir Orbs, Or dim ſuffuſion veild. Yet not the more Ceaſe I to wander where the Muſes haunt Cleer Spring, or ſhadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill, Smit with the love of ſacred ſong; but chief Thee Sion and the flowrie Brooks beneath, 30That waſh thy hallowd feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I viſit: nor ſomtimes forget Thoſe other two equal'd with me in Fate,So were I equal’d with them in renown, Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides, And Tireſias and Phineus Prophets old. Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful Bird Sings darkling, and in ſhadieſt Covert hid Tunes her nocturnal Note. Thus with the Year 40Seaſons return, but not to me returns Day, or the ſweet approach of Ev'n or Morn, Or ſight of vernal bloom, or Summers Roſe, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud in ſtead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the chearful waies of men Cut off, and for the Book of knowledg fair Preſented with a Universal blanc
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