A rebel, ’midst the thunders of his throne!

Nor I alone! a rebel universe!

My species up in arms! not one exempt!

Yet for the foulest of the foul, he dies,

Most joy’d, for the redeem’d from deepest guilt!

As if our race were held of highest rank;

And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man!” 332

Bound, every heart! and every bosom, burn!

O what a scale of miracles is here!

Its lowest round, high planted on the skies;