At His Birth A Star, Unseen Before

Come Knit Hands, And Beat The Ground In A Light Fantastic Round

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.

For Evil News Rides Post, While Good News Baits.

So Much I Feel My Genial Spirits Droop, My Hopes All Flat, Nature Within Me Seems In Her Functions Weary Of Herself.

A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Call'd The Paradise Of Fools To Few Unknown.