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And so, in a gentle and ne'er-changing band, Let woman and minstrel unite; They weave and they fashion, with hand joined to hand, The girdle of beauty and right. When love blends with music, in unison sweet, The lustre of life's youthful days ne'er can fleet.
But in his silent chamber the thoughtful sage is projecting Magical circles, and steals e'en on the spirit that forms, Proves the force of matter, the hatreds and loves of the magnet, Follows the tune through the air, follows through ether the ray, Seeks the familiar law in chance's miracles dreaded, Looks for the ne'er-changing pole in the phenomena's flight.
But where creative beauty is ruling, there life and enjoyment Dwell; to the ne'er-changing One, thousands of new forms she gives. Good from the good, to the reason this is not hard of conception; But the genius has power good from the bad to evoke. 'Tis the conceived alone, that thou, imitator, canst practise; Food the conceived never is, save to the mind that conceives.
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