Where No Hope Is Left,

Ride The Air In Whirlwind.

A Crown Golden In Show, Is But A Wreath Of Thorns, Bring Dangers, Troubles, Cares, And Sleepless Nights To Him Who Wears The Regal Diadem

O Why Did God, Creator Wise, That Peopled Highest Heav'n With Spirits Masculine, Create At Last This Novelty On Earth, This Fair Defect Of Nature, And Not Fill The World At Once With Men As Angels Without Feminine, Or Find Some Other Way To Generate Mankind?

For To Interpose A Little Ease, Let Our Frail Thoughts Dally With False Surmise.

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.