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PRELUDE.
And when I try, beneath this sun,All exploits that o'erleap the grave,I find by Will they were not done,Nor Wealth, nor Wisdom chose nor gave.Some higher Potency begotThe Virtue's self that knew it not. Shall we be proud? oh no? Not from ourselves, but Love, Immortal actions flow.
ODE.
Wherefore, great Love, to thee I bend the duteous knee,The homage of the heart devoutly paying; Thou, greatest, first,and best, Lord of the human breast,None vainly slighteth thee in deed or saying.
Not in the childish guise Where thy transcendent eyesO'erleapt the heathen heaven's soft surrounding , Nor in the wood-nymph's dress, With lusty gagliardesseOf Satyrs from the tangled thicket bounding.
