Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow.
This is servitude, To serve the unwise.
Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand; For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.
To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons.