Record the journey of immortal Milton thro' your realms
Of terror and mild moony lustre， in soft Sexual delusions
Of varièd beauty， to delight the wanderer， and repose
His burning thirst and freezing hunger！ Come into my hand，
By your mild power descending down the nerves of my right arm
From out the portals of my Brain， where by your ministry
The Eternal Great Humanity Divine planted His Paradise，
And in it caus'd the Spectres of the Dead to take sweet form
In likeness of Himself. Tell also of the False Tongue， vegetated
Beneath your land of Shadows， of its sacrifices and
Its offerings； even till Jesus， the image of the Invisible God，
Became its prey； a curse， an offering， and an atonement
For Death Eternal， in the Heavens of Albion， and before the Gates
Of Jerusalem his Emanation， in the Heavens beneath Beulah！