Thought Would Destroy Their Paradise.

Some Village Hampden, That With Dauntless Breast The Little Tyrant Of His Fields Withstood, Some Mute Inglorious Milton Here May Rest, Some Cromwell Guiltless Of His Country's Blood.

He Pass'd The Flaming Bounds Of Place And Time: The Living Throne, The Sapphire Blaze, Where Angels Tremble While They Gaze, He Saw; But Blasted With Excess Of Light, Closed His Eyes In Endless Night.

Man's Feeble Race What Ills Await! Labour, And Penury, The Racks Of Pain, Disease, And Sorrow's Weeping Train, And Death, Sad Refuge From The Storms Of Fate!

Ruin Seize Thee, Ruthless King! Confusion On Thy Banners Wait! Though Fann'd By Conquest's Crimson Wing, They Mock The Air With Idle State.

One Principal Characteristic Of Vice In The Present Age Is The Contempt Of Fame.