Yet hence barbaric zeal
His memory with unholy rage pursues;
While from these arduous cares of public weal
She bids each bard begone, and rest him with his Muse.
O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind
Must grasp at all that yonder stars survey;
Must join the noblest form of every kind,
The world's most perfect image to display,
Can e'er his country's majesty behold,
Unmov'd or cold!
O fool! to deem
That He, whose thought must visit every theme,
Whose heart must every strong emotion know
By nature planted, or by fortune taught;
That He, if haply some presumptuous foe,
With false ignoble science fraught,
Shall spurn at freedom's faithful band;
That He, their dear defence will shun,
Or hide their glories from the sun,
Or deal their vengeance with a woman's hand!