When **Wit**'s quick arrow finds the mark unseen, (A) It draws its **beauty** from a source divine; (B) No false reflection, but the light between (B) The marble columns of a Roman shrine. (A) The **Truth** we seek is sung by laurel trees, (A) Whose roots grip deep in **Nature**'s fertile soil; (B) Where mighty **Zeus** commands the ocean seas, (B) And grants to **Mars** the right to war and toil. (A) But know the power of the singular soul, (C) The tiny spark of brave **individuality**; (D) It bends the myth and makes the cosmos whole, (E) Defying fate and dull banality. (C) Though **Jove** and **Pallas** set the world's design, (D) The final verse, O mortal, must be thine. (E) See more