Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
If it come to prohibiting, there is aught more likely to be prohibited than truth itself.
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
The never-ending flight Of future days.
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.
What hath night to do with sleep?