When the plainsong did ring, heavenly darling, and was in its infancy, while yet in young Tuscany the angels did sing, sing of mortal passions round the immortal ring, ring of the Muse's mind so magical... Celebrating, quivering, wondering, raging; and then possessed by slow degrees, they felt the world's undoing -and then its rebirth in so doing. These minds of which I speak, feel the glow now of all lesser beings, beings aroused, refined, intoxicated: till once, when all were filled to brimming with fury and inspiration, from each supporting pillar these angels drew mortal breath, so bated, wherewithal Chaos ruled the night. Yes, Chaos ruled the night -it cannot be overstated!