Go, call thou snake-eyed malice mercy, call envy honest praise,
Count selfish craft for wisdom, and coward treachery for prudence,
Do homage to blaspheming unbelief as to bold and free philosophy,
And estimate the recklessness of license as the right attribute of liberty,—
But with the world, thou friend and scholar, stain not this pure name;
Nor suffer the majesty of Love to be likened to the meanness of desire:
For love is no more such, than seraphs' hymns are discord,
And such is no more Love, than Etna's breath is summer.
Love is a sweet idolatry enslaving all the soul,
A mighty spiritual force, warring with the dulness of matter,