The fate thou didst so well forsee,
But would not appease him tell:
,And in thy Silence was his Sentence,
And in his Soul a vain repentance ,
And evil dread so ill dissembled
That in his hand the lightnings trembled.
Thy Godlike crime was to be kind,
To render with thy precepts less
The sum of human wretchedness,
And strengthen Man with his own mind
But baffled as thou wert from high,
Still in the patient energy
In the endurance, and repulse
Of thine impenetrable Spirit
Which earth and heaven could not convulse
No comments:
Post a Comment