Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.
Gray, The Progress of Poesy
(2) Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour.[131]
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;