If cherish'd only by the breath of prose.
Beauty of beauty's not the smallest part
Which is bestowèd by our liberal art.
Orpheus, Arion, and the scraping crew,
450To wire and parchèd guts may bid adieu,
Or audience beg; were 't not for sprightful bays,
Which to the strings composeth merry lays.
But with the Muses I'm so fall'n in love
That I forget thy presence, mighty Jove!
And through the spacious universe do walk: