never past
His country's sight, to waft and guide them in:
So when we wander furthest through the waves
_Of glassy glory and the gulfs of state_,
Topped with all titles, spreading all our reaches,
As if each private arm would sphere the earth,
We must to Virtue for her guide resort,
Or we shall shipwreck in our safest port."

"In a king
All places are contained. His words and looks
Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;
His deeds inimitable, _like the sea
That shuts still as it opes_, and leaves no tracks,
_Nor prints of precedent for mean men's acts._"

"His great heart will not down: 't is like the sea
That partly by his own internal heat,
Partly the stars' daily and nightly motion,
Their heat and light, and partly of the place
The divers frames, but chiefly by the moon
Bristled with surges, never will be won,
(No, not when th' hearts of all those powers are burst,)
To make retreat into his settled home,
Till he be crowned with his own quiet foam."

"Now, all ye peaceful regents of the night,
Silently gliding exhalations,
_Languishing winds, and murmuring falls of waters,
Sadness of heart, and ominous secureness,
Enchantments, dead sleeps_, all the friends of rest
That ever wrought upon the life of man,
Extend your utmost strengths; and this charmed hour
Fix like the centre."

"There is One
That wakes above, whose eye no sleep can bind:
He sees through doors and darkness and our thoughts."

"O, the dangerous siege
Sin lays about us! and the tyranny
He exercises when he hath expugned:
Like to the horror of a winter's thunder,
Mixed with a gushing storm, that suffer nothing
To stir abroad on earth but their own rages,
Is sin, when it hath gathered head above us."

"Terror of darkness! O thou king of flames!
That with thy music-footed horse doth strike
The clear light out of crystal, on dark earth,
And hurl'st instinctive fire about the world,
Wake, wake, the drowsy and enchanted night,
That sleeps with dead eyes in this heavy riddle:
O thou great prince of shades, where never sun
Sticks his far-darted beams, whose eyes are made
To shine in darkness, and see ever best
Where men are blindest! open now the heart
Of thy abashed oracle, that for fear
Of some ill it in