Whither I knew not, travail amid and stain,
Awoke the fount of thought; that, the sheer gain
Of liberal ecstasy, of flowing days
And nightless hours forgetful, bound around
Of irkless ease: this spake Olympus found,
Endeavour’s glowing thew, Achievement high;
That struck all blood to fever, till I fain
Had slipped the leash. Perplexedly sat I.
Then from the mirth and ribaldry outstept
Beauty her very self: Of motion free,