This lyre as thine ’tis using!
Then might I rise with mystical eyes,
Swoll’n with the theme of musing,
Soaring athirst my song to burst
With utterance scarce of choosing.
So Song would scorn corporeal bourne;
Dilated so pursuing
With eager breast its passionate quest,
All transient worth eschewing,
Pausing its lute awhile when, mute,