Brighter shall shine men’s clay than angels’ light, one day; earth through our Destiny turn to a starry sky.

The fancies in our head that upon storms were fed one day shall soar, and clear the whirlpool of the sphere.

Why askest thou of me? Consider Man, and see how, mind-developed still, sublime this subject will.

Come fashioned forth, sublime. This common thought, in time, and with its beauty’s rapture even God’s heart shall capture.