And uncreated, but for love divine;
And, but for love divine, this moment, lost,
By fate resorb’d, and sunk in endless night.
Man hard of heart to man! of horrid things 210
Most horrid! ’mid stupendous, highly strange!
Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs;
Pride brandishes the favours He confers,
And contumelious his humanity:
What then his vengeance? Hear it not, ye stars!
And thou, pale moon! turn paler at the sound;