A soul so deeply sunk therein,
Thronged though it be with crimes and cares,
Revenges, malices, despairs,
However dire the phantoms there,
However pestilent its air—
But in its thoroughfares, night and day,
There ever is some golden ray,
Like a sweet child from home astray—
Some light of Heaven, some fragment thence
Of primal love and innocence,