Thou Art My Father, Thou My Author,

He Touch'd The Tender Stops Of Various Quills, With Eager Thought Warbling His Doric Lay.

So On This Windy Sea Of Land, The Fiend Walked Up And Down Alone Bent On His Prey.

O Execrable Son! So To Aspire Above His Brethren, To Himself Assuming Authority Usurped, From God Not Given. He Gave Us Only Over Beast, Fish, Fowl, Dominion Absolute; That Right We Hold By His Donation; But Man Over Men He Made Not Lord; Such Title To Himself Reserving, Human Left From Human Free.

Hail, Wedded Love, Mysterious Law; True Source Of Human Happiness.

Let Her (truth) And Falsehood Grapple; Who Ever Knew Truth Put To The Worse In A Free And Open Encounter?