the spirit languishes and lies At mercy of life’s dull realities. […] At their nuptials, invitations were sent to all the Gods, and beings of even a lower order were not forgotten. […] Fast, stubborn rock; At thy feared trident, shrinking, doth unlock Its deep foundations, hissing into foam. […] At the sound, the traitors were struck silent, and hesitated in their course, but they had gone too far: it was too late to recede, and the poet was thrown into the deep. […] At last his shining arms to heaven he rears And, in distress, for refuge flies to prayers.