Hither come, all ye whose minds Lust with rosy fetters binds⁠— Lust to bondage hard compelling Th’ earthy souls that are his dwelling⁠— Here shall be your labour’s close; Here your haven of repose. Come, to your one refuge press; Wide it stands to all distress! Not the glint of yellow gold Down bright Hermus’ current rolled; Not the Tagus’ precious sands, Nor in far-off scorching lands All the radiant gems that hide Under Indus’ storied tide⁠— Emerald green and glistering white⁠— Can illume our feeble sight; But they rather leave the mind In its native darkness blind. For the fairest beams they shed In earth’s lowest depths were fed; But the splendour that supplies Strength and vigour to the skies, And the universe controls, Shunneth dark and ruined souls.