Aristotle ... imputed this symphony of the heavens ... this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. ... But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony ... If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.

Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.

And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear As may, with sweetness, through mine ear Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes.

Methought I saw my late espoused saint.

With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears.

Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.

These two imparadised in one another's arms, the happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill of bliss on bliss.