Looking at them here in the prospect, they seem immense; but when we get to heaven, we shall then, "With transporting joys recount The labors of our feet."
And what revenge 'twill be to note When thou dost kiss his brow, How thy gold tresses, soft and light, Blend with his locks of snow; And what revenge to hear him To thee his loves recount, Praising some Moorish lass, or mark His sons thy staircase mount.
I prithee recount some of them.
"Oh, let me now my sins recount, And grant at last Into thy presence I may mount, And thou, dear mother, think not of my past.
Bid him recount The fore-recited practices, whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much.