Partake its inclination towards earth
In humble grace, and quiet pensiveness
Caught at the point where it stops short of sadness. 40
Offspring of soul-bewitching Art, make me
Thy confidant! say, whence derived that air
Of calm abstraction? Can the ruling thought
Be with some lover far away, or one
Crossed by misfortune, or of doubted faith? 45
Inapt conjecture! Childhood here, a moon
Crescent in simple loveliness serene,