So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning.

Aristotle ... imputed this symphony of the heavens ... this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. ... But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony ... If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.

Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.

Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.

Where shame is, there is also fear.

And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.

But who is this, what thing of sea or land,- Female of sex it seems,- That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play, An amber scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger?