And sin the graceful indignation raise.
My love be warm to succour the distress'd,
And lift the burden from the soul oppress'd.
Oh may my understanding ever read
This glorious volume, which thy wisdom made!
Who decks the maiden spring with flow'ry pride?
Who calls forth summer, like a sparkling bride?
Who joys the mother autumn's bed to crown?
And bids old winter lay her honours down?
Not the great Ottoman, or greater Czar,