But Oh! my soul hath baser prov’d,
Honour’d, and fear’d, and serv’d, and lov’d
The creature more than thee.
3. Let the blind sons of Rome bow down
To images of wood and stone;
But I with subtler art,
Safe from the letter of thy word,
My idols secretly ador’d,
Set up within my heart.
4. But Oh! suffice the season past: