Surrounds thee mouldering dust alone,
The grinning skull and skeleton.
Arise! forth to the fields, arise!
And this mysterious magic page,
From Nostradamus’ hand so sage,[n1]
Should guide thee well. Thy raptured eyes
Shall then behold what force compels
The tuneful spheres to chime together;
When, taught by Nature’s mightiest spells,
Thine innate spring of soul upwells,