Have I not, then, accomplish’d my proud boast?
Did I not tell thee, “We would mount, Lorenzo! 1942
And kindle our devotion at the stars”?
And have I fail’d? and did I flatter thee?
And art all adamant? and dost confute
All urged, with one irrefragable smile?
Lorenzo! mirth how miserable here!
Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear,
Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as they:
Then thou, like them, shalt shine; like them, shalt rise