What is dark within me, illumine.
And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.
Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive.
Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.