Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
He that hath light within their own breast, may sit in the centre and enjoy bright day.
Our country is where ever we are well off.
But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!