But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.
Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.
The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove, On which the fabric of our world depends, One link dissolved, the whole creation ends.
Circle are praised, not that abound, In largeness, but the exactly round.
Music so softens and disarms the mind That not an arrow does resistance find.