To hold each earnest hour, a jewel new,
A star to light and guide:
And Toil, that shears all knotted puzzles through,
A stellar sword against the dark descried
Shall burn, like Perseus’ blade whereby the Gorgon died
Far, far the Colchian shores,
Weary the mid-sea laboring at the oars,
And hard to pass the rough Symplegades:
But, sail and storm-beat spars
And wave-worn rudder pictured all in stars,