No More Learning

There, that at heav'n's high porch, not one sole crown,
Ariadne's,
Golden above those brows Ismaros' youth did
adore, 60
Starry should hang, set alone; but           I might
glisten,
Vow'd to the Gods, bright spoil won from an aureat
head;
While to the skies I clomb still ocean-dewy, the Goddess
Placed rne amid star-spheres primal, a glory to be.