But how conjure by the best ordered show
Of grief an irremediable woe!
Orpheus fled Pity, and neighbourly Care;
All human fellowship but his despair.
With but that and his lyre communion still
He held, from dawn to sunset, then until
The planets rose and sank, banishing sleep,
Keeping sad vigils by the moaning deep,
Thinking each shadow on the desert shore
Was his lost Bride restored to life once more.