To Circe's isle, with mighty charms enchained
Besides! Were we unchangeable in Will,
And of a Wit, that nothing could misdeem;
Equal to GOD (whose wisdom shineth still,
And never errs) we might ourselves esteem.
So that if Man would be unvariable;
He must be GOD! or like a rock, or tree!
For even the perfect angels were not stable;
But had a fall, more desperate than we.