But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!

The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.

Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.

For so I created them free and free they must remain.

Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.