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The
primal
Motor
turns
to
it
well
pleased
At
so
great
art
of
nature
,
and
inspires
A
spirit
new
with
virtue
all
replete
,
Which
what
it
finds
there
active
doth
attract
Into
its
substance
,
and
becomes
one
soul
,
Which
lives
,
and
feels
,
and
on
itself
revolves
.
And
that
thou
less
may
wonder
at
my
word
,
Behold
the
sun
's
heat
,
which
becometh
wine
,
Joined
to
the
juice
that
from
the
vine
distils
.
Whenever
Lachesis
has
no
more
thread
,
