Of halting steps, were never free to bear;
Upon thy wings I soar to heaven, and there
By thy swift genius are its glories shown;
I pale and redden at thy choice alone,
Grow chill in sunlight, warm in frosty air.
Thy will is evermore my sole desire,
Within thy heart conceived each wish of mine,
My accents framèd purely of thy breath;
Like to the moon am I, that hath no fire,
But only is beheld in heaven to shine