 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
We, whom Herthas Voice,
Hath hithertó unnumbered leagues conveyed;
Nigh spent our spirits, wayfáre now long last stage.
Ends then, in vast blind Cirque, our outward course:
Wherein those devious paths, we lately trode;
Returning ón themselves, in spires, ascend.
Hath hithertó unnumbered leagues conveyed;
Nigh spent our spirits, wayfáre now long last stage.
Ends then, in vast blind Cirque, our outward course:
Wherein those devious paths, we lately trode;
Returning ón themselves, in spires, ascend.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |