Freely we serve, because freely we love.
Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?
Tears such as angels weep.
Evil, be thou my good.
The starry cope Of heaven.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.