And days were number’d, she, some space remote
From where Olympus highest towers in snow,
[150]Bare the nine maids, with souls together knit
In harmony: whose thought is only song:
Within whose bosoms dwells th’ unsorrowing mind.
There on the mount they shine in troops of dance,
And dwell in beautified abodes: and nigh
The Graces also dwell, and Love himself,
And hold the feast. But they through parted lips
Send forth a lovely voice; they sing the laws