Or Bid The Soul Of Orpheus Sing

It Was That Fatal And Perfidious Bark, Built In Th' Eclipse, And Rigg'd With Curses Dark.

The Leaf Was Darkish, And Had Prickles On It, But In Another Country, As He Said, Bore A Bright Golden Flow'r, But Not In This Soil; Unknown, And Like Esteem'd, And The Dull Swain Treads On It Daily With His Clouted Shoon.

Above The Smoke And Stir Of This Dim Spot Which Men Call Earth.

Spirits When They Please Can Either Sex Assume, Or Both.

Faithful Found Among The Faithless.