Virtue, Which Breaks Through Opposition And All

Of Four Infernal Rivers That Disgorge/ Into The Burning Lake Their Baleful Streams;/abhorred Styx The Flood Of Deadly Hate,/sad Acheron Of Sorrow, Black And Deep;/cocytus, Nam'd Of Lamentation Loud/ Heard On The Rueful Stream; Fierce Phlegethon/ Whose Waves Of Torrent Fire Inflame With Rage./ Far Off From These A Slow And Silent Stream,/ Lethe The River Of Oblivion Rolls/ Her Wat'ry Labyrinth Whereof Who Drinks,/ Forthwith His Former State And Being Forgets,/ Forgets Both Joy And Grief, Pleasure And Pain.

He Left It In Thy Power, Ordaind Thy Will By Nature Free, Not Over-rul'd By Fate Inextricable, Or Strict Necessity.

Who Can In Reason Then Or Right Assume Monarchy Over Such As Live By Right His Equals, If In Power Or Splendor Less, In Freedom Equal?

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?

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.