A Beautiful Soul Has No Other Merit

The Painter Is, As To The Execution Of His Work, A Mechanic; But As To His Conception And Spirit And Design He Is Hardly Below Even The Poet.

Appearance Should Never Attain Reality, And If Nature Conquers, Then Must Art Retire.

Thus Arm In Arm With Thee I Dare Defy My Century Into The Lists.

The Empire Of Saturnus Is Gone By; Lord Of The Secret Birth Of Things Is He; Within The Lap Of Earth, And In The Depths Of The Imagination Dominates; And His Are All Things That Eschew The Light. The Time Is O'er Of Brooding And Contrivance, For Jupiter, The Lustrous, Lordeth Now, And The Dark Work, Complete Of Preparation, He Draws By Force Into The Realm Of Light. Now Must We Hasten On To Action, Ere The Scheme, And Most Auspicious Positure Parts O'er My Head, And Takes Once More Its Flight, For The Heavens Journey Still, And Adjourn Not.

As Freely As The Firmament Embraces The World, Or The Sun Pours Forth Impartially His Beams, So Mercy Must Encircle Both Friend And Foe.