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The cloisters, once the rearing place Of daring men and royal breed, Alas! Now nothing else impart— To foxy ways they pay much heed.

The chiefs who lead the caravan train, Of that virtue quite are blank, Which is found in shepherd’s task And leads to Moses’ noble rank.

How can the birds with voices sweet The thrilling joy of song attain? Alas! The birds in hostile mead Cannot their breath for long sustain.

One type of rapture and surprise Is darkness deep and pitch complete; The other rapture and surprise With love and knowledge is replete.

My thoughts sublime that soar aloft, Like the flash of lightning, show the way; Lest travellers in the dark of night Should miss the track and go astray.