The Never-ending Flight Of Future

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

Death Ready Stands To Interpose His Dart.

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.

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

These Evils I Deserve, And More . . . . Justly, Yet Despair Not Of His Final Pardon, Whose Ear Is Ever Open, And His Eye Gracious To Re-admit The Suppliant.