Never Was It Given To Mortal Man

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From Heaven.

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.

Envy Will Merit As Its Shade Pursue, But Like A Shadow, Proves The Substance True.

Know Then, Unnumber'd Spirits Round Thee Fly, The Light Militia Of The Lower Sky.