All have their shapes and qualities to nurse
The soul’s aspirings, and, from blooming youth
To ripe old age, provoke the quest of truth.
XXXIII.
“Truth! I would know thee wert thou e’er so bad,
Bad as thy persecutors deem or fear,
Wert thou in more than Gorgon terrors clad,
Thy glance a death to every feeling dear;
Taught thou that God a demon’s passions had,
That Earth is Hell, and that the damned dwell here,