'Midst the dance veering,
Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slightedWrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt,Now is My fearful judgment felt,
When the wife of Asan heard him speak thus,On the ground, all pale and trembling, fell she,And her spirit fled her sorrowing bosom,When she saw her children flying from her.
1803.-----LOVER IN ALL SHAPES.
Am I doom'd myself to seeThus degraded evermore?
With fearful shout, demand of me.Why should they, madmen-like, begin
Sing no more in mournful tones
Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder;With the bark are sporting wind and water,Wind and water sport not with his bosom:On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,--In his gods, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed,Trusting ever.
No mortal e'er led.
May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, oh my Dora!
All the remainingRaces so poorOf life-teeming earth.In children so rich.Wander and feedIn vacant enjoyment,And 'mid the dark sorrowsOf evanescentRestricted life,--Bow'd by the heavyYoke of Necessity.
Who never through night's heavy hoursSat weeping on his lonely bed,--
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