Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil;
Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting,
As if she rather ordered than was granting.—
CX.
Something imperial, or imperious, threw
A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain
Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you,—
And Rapture's self will seem almost a pain
With aught which looks like despotism in view;
Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain