Arm The Obdured Breast With Stubborn Patience

Meanwhile The Adversary Of God And Man, Satan With Thoughts Inflamed Of Highest Design, Puts On Swift Wings, And Towards The Gates Of Hell Explores His Solitary Flight.

There Swift Return Diurnal, Merely To Officiate Light Round This Opacous Earth, This Punctual Spot.

If All The World Should In A Pet Of Temp'rance, Feed On Pulse, Drink The Clear Stream, And Nothing Wear But Frieze, Th' All-giver Would Be Unthank'd, Would Be Unprais'd.

Who Knows Not Circe, The Daughter Of The Sun , Whose Charmed Cup Whoever Tasted, Lost His Upright Shape, And Downward Fell Into A Groveling Swine?

Sole Reigning Holds The Tyranny Of Heav'n.