Brother-creations the dark bowels burst
Of night primeval; barren, now, no more?
And He the central sun, transpiercing all
Those giant generations, which disport
And dance, as motes, in his meridian ray;
That ray withdrawn, benighted, or absorb’d,
In that abyss of horror, whence they sprung;
While Chaos triumphs, repossess’d of all
Rival Creation ravish’d from his throne?
Chaos! of Nature both the womb, and grave! 1550