Which checked the beams of awful majesty?
Dost think an earth-born beauty can be found,
960Which darts forth lustre from the sullen ground—
To kiss the glorious skies? Or canst thou think
The queen of beauty dwells in such a chink?
Dost think? 'tis poor, why do I question so?
Thou dar'st confirm all this by oath, I know,
Since my Bellama's there, all life, all breath,
Whose presence can enlive the soul of death,
Despite of sickly Nature: she is all fair