}
Still when the giant-brood invades her throne, }
She stoops from heaven, and meets them half way down, }
And with paternal thunder vindicates her crown. }
}
But like Egyptian sorcerers you stand, }
And vainly lift aloft your magic wand, }
To sweep away the swarms of vermin from the land; }
You could, like them, with like infernal force,
Produce the plague, but not arrest the course.