His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow.
Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.