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38 Which may transfer the sceptre of wide Heaven, The fear of which perplexes the Supreme. Clothe it in words, and bid it clasp his throne In intercession; bend thy soul in prayer, And like a suppliant in some gorgeous fane, Let the will kneel within thy haughty heart, For benefits and meek submission tame The fiercest and the mightiest.

Evil minds Change good to their own nature. I gave all He has; and in return he chains me here Years, ages, night and day; whether the Sun Split my parched skin, or in the moony night The chrystal-winged snow cling round my hair; Whilst my beloved race is trampled down By his thought-executing ministers. Such is the tyrant's recompense. 'tis just. He who is evil can receive no good; And for a world bestowed, or a friend lost, He can feel hate, fear, shame; not gratitude. He but requites me for his own misdeed. Kindness to such is keen reproach, which breaks With bitter stings the light sleep of Revenge. Submission thou dost know I cannot try.