"Then will I visit with a wand’ring kiss The vale of lilies and the bower of bliss; And where the beauteous region both divide Into two milky ways, my lips shall slide Down those smooth alleys, wearing as they go A tract for lovers on the printed snow; Thence climbing o’er the swelling Apennine, Retire into thy grove of eglantine, Where I will all those ravish’d sweets distil Through Love’s alembic, and with chemic skill From the mix’d mass one sovereign balm derive, Then bring that great elixir to thy hive."