To swallow Time’s ambitions; as the vast
Leviathan, the bubbles vain, that ride
High on the foaming billow; what avail
High titles, high descent, attainments high,
If unattain’d our highest? O Lorenzo!
What lofty thoughts, these elements above, 40
What towering hopes, what sallies from the sun,
What grand surveys of destiny divine,
And pompous presage of unfathom’d fate,
Should roll in bosoms, where a spirit burns,