There is a virtue loftier than the rules

By which belief squares what it would digest,

There is a process which the subtler schools

Believe too simple for their high bequest;

A goddess hovers o’er this giddy earth,

Her snowy breasts are budding to the air,

Her sad smile ’s conquered peace yet shrinks from mirth,

Reclines she, and her arms invite, her hair,

Sole garment of her loveliness, conformed

To the semblance of a golden lap, the shrine

And cradle of all promise; here are formed

All creeds of holiness, beauty, divine

Truth, and immortal strivings unfulfilled,

And through the whole rich charity’s distilled.

{18}

{18}

XVIII.

Man varies, ages change, and time unfolds

A different name writ on the selfsame scroll;

And one shall hate what his descendant holds

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