Shall reverence of the gods, and holy fear,
That shrinks from wrong, both night and day possess,
A place apart, so long as fickle change
Your ancient laws disturbs not; but, if this
Pure fount with muddy streams ye trouble, ye
Shall draw the draught in vain. From anarchy
And slavish masterdom alike my ordinance
Preserve my people! Cast not from your walls
All high authority; for where no fear
Awful remains, what mortal will be just?