Abash'd The Devil Stood, And Felt How

To Many A Youth And Many A Maid, Dancing In The Chequer'd Shade.

First Moloch, Horrid King, Besmirched In Blood, Of Human Sacrifice, And Parent's Tears, Though, For The Noise Of Drums And Timbrels Loud, Their Childrens' Cries Unheard, That Passed Through Fire, To His Grim Idol.

Truth And Understanding Are Not Such Wares As To Be Monopolized And Traded In By Tickets And Statutes And Standards. We Must Not Think To Make A Staple Commodity Of All The Knowledge In The Land, To Mark And License It Like Our Broadcloth And Our Woolpacks.

Flowers Of All Hue, And Without Thorn The Rose.

His Words, Like So Many Nimble And Airy Servitors, Trip About Him At Command. Ibid.