To visit being universal there,
And being’s source, that utmost flight of mind!
Yet, spite of this so vast circumference,
Well knows, but what is moral, nought is great. 62
Sing syrens only? Do not angels sing?
There is in Poesy a decent pride,
Which well becomes her when she speaks to Prose,
Her younger sister; haply, not more wise.
Think’st thou, Lorenzo! to find pastimes here?
No guilty passion blown into a flame,