And In Their Motions Harmony Divine So

Well Observe The Rule Of Not Too Much, By Temperance Taught In What Thou Eat'st And Drink'st.

No Mighty Trance, Or Breathed Spell Inspires The Pale-eyed Priest From The Prophetic Cell.

Into This Wild Abyss, The Womb Of Nature And Perhaps Her Grave.

Haste Thee, Nymph, And Bring With Thee Jest, And Youthful Jollity, Quips, And Cranks, And Wanton Wiles, Nods, And Becks, And Wreathed Smiles, Such As Hang On Hebe's Cheek, And Love To Live In Dimple Sleek; Sport That Wrinkled Care Derides, And Laughter Holding Both His Sides.

The Mind Is Its Own Place, And In Itself, Can Make Heaven Of Hell, And A Hell Of Heaven.