“Here shall thy triumph, Genius, cease, and here
Truth, Science, Virtue, close your short career.”
Tyrants! in vain ye trace the wizard ring;
In vain ye limit Mind’s unwearied spring:
What! can ye lull the wingèd winds asleep,
Arrest the rolling world, or chain the deep?
No!—the wild wave contemns your sceptred hand.
It rolled not back when Canute gave command!
Man! can thy doom no brighter soul allow?
Still must thou live a blot on Nature’s brow?