A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses

The rising world of waters dark and deep.

And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse

And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?

The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.

Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.

Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.