Necessity, Thou Mother Of The World!

I Pant, I Sink, I Tremble, I Expire!

Think Ye By Gazing On Each Other's Eyes To Multiply Your Lovely Selves?

O World! O Life! O Time! On Whose Last Steps I Climb

The Cloud Of Mind Is Discharging Its Collected Lightning.

The Young Moon Has Fed Her Exhausted Horn With The Sunset's Fire.