And for some earthly, transitory gift,
Barter their souls and all their hopes of Heaven.
Of these enchanted bullets let me speak:
There may be such: our earth hath things as strange,
Perhaps, and stranger, that we doubt not of,
While we behold,—not only 'neath the thatch
Of Ignorance's hovel,—but within
The stately halls of Wisdom's palaces,
How Superstition sits an honored guest.
A cross-way, so they say, among the hills;