Abhorring violence! who halt indeed;
But, for the blessing, wrestle not with Heaven!
Think you my song too turbulent? too warm?
Are passions, then, the Pagans of the soul?
Reason alone baptized? alone ordain’d 630
To touch things sacred? Oh for warmer still! 631
Guilt chills my zeal, and age benumbs my powers;
Oh for an humbler heart, and prouder song!
Thou, my much-injured theme! with that soft eye,
Which melted o’er doom’d Salem, deign to look