And all be confidence and peace.
He such insidious method takes,
He seems to heal the wound he makes;
Till, master of the human breast,
He shows himself the foe of rest,
Pours in his doubts, his dread, his pains,
And now a very tyrant reigns.
If, then, his power we cannot shun,
And must endure—what can be done? 40
To whom, thus bound, can we apply?—