Live while ye may, Yet happy pair.
My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
Who can in reason then or right assume monarchy over such as live by right his equals, if in power or splendor less, in freedom equal?
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?-thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?