OFT have we trod the vales of Castaly
 And heard sweet notes of sylvan music blown
 From antique reeds to common folk unknown:
 And often launched our bark upon that sea
 Which the nine Muses hold in empery,
 And ploughed free furrows through the wave and foam,
 Nor spread reluctant sail for more safe home
 Till we had freighted well our argosy.
 Of which despoilèd treasures these remain,
 Sordello's passion, and the honied line 
 Of young Endymion, lordly Tamburlaine
 Driving his pampered jades, and more than these,
 The seven-fold vision of the Florentine,
 And grave-browed Milton's solemn harmonies.