Beyond all past example and future; To Satan only like, both crime and doom. O Conscience! into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged!”

Thus Adam to himself lamented loud Through the still night, not now, as ere Man fell, Wholesome and cool and mild, but with black air Accompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom; Which to his evil conscience represented All things with double terror. On the ground Outstretched he lay, on the cold ground, and oft Cursed his creation; Death as oft accused Of tardy execution, since denounced The day of his offence. “Why comes not Death,” Said he, “with one thrice-acceptable stroke To end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word, Justice divine not hasten to be just? But Death comes not at call; Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers! With other echo late I taught your shades To answer, and resound far other song.”