Fear Of Change Perplexes Monarchs.

. . . For Beauty Stands In The Admiration Only Of Weak Minds Led Captive. Cease To Admire, And All Her Plumes Fall Flat And Shrink Into A Trivial Toy, At Every Sudden Slighting Quite Abash'd.

He Scarce Had Ceased When The Superior Fiend Was Moving Toward The Shore; His Ponderous Shield Ethereal Temper, Massy, Large And Round, Behind Him Cast; The Broad Circumference Hung On His Shoulders Like The Moon, Whose Orb Through Optic Glass The Tuscan Artist Views At Evening From The Top Of Fésolè, Or In Valdarno, To Descry New Lands, Rivers Or Mountains In Her Spotty Globe.

Immediate Are The Acts Of God, More Swift Than Time Or Motion.

If This Fail, The Pillar'd Firmament Is Rottenness, And Earth's Base Built On Stubble.

They Eat, They Drink, And In Communion Sweet Quaff Immortality And Joy.