Dal Ciel Discese. From Heaven His Spirit Came, And Robed In Clay The Realms Of Justice And Of Mercy Trod, Then Rose A Living Man To Gaze On God, That He Might Make The Truth As Clear As Day. For That Pure Star That Brightened With His Ray The Undeserving Nest Where I Was Born, The Whole Wide World Would Be A Prize To Scorn; None But His Maker Can Due Guerdon Pay. I Speak Of Dante, Whose High Work Remains Unknown, Unhonoured By That Thankless Brood, Who Only To Just Men Deny Their Wage. Were I But He! Born For Like Lingering Pains, Against His Exile Coupled With His Good I'd Gladly Change The World'S Best Heritage!