As To Posterity, I May Ask What

Hell Is Full Of Good Intentions.

Daughter Of Jove, Relentless Power, Thou Tamer Of The Human Breast, Whose Iron Scourge And Tort'ring Hour The Bad Affright, Afflict The Best!

The Curfew Tolls The Knell Of Parting Day, The Lowing Herd Winds Slowly O'er The Lea, The Ploughman Homeward Plods His Weary Way, And Leaves The World To Darkness And To Me.

Can Storied Urn, Or Animated Bust Back To Its Mansion Call The Fleeting Breath? Can Honour's Voice Provoke The Silent Dust, Or Flatt'ry Soothe The Dull Cold Ear Of Death?

The Applause Of List'ning Senates To Command, The Threats Of Pain And Ruin To Despise, To Scatter Plenty O'er A Smiling Land, And Read Their History In A Nation's Eyes.