To graves, from whence it rose, the conquered phantom fled.

He broke that monstrous god which stood, 50

In midst of the orchard, and the whole did claim,

Which with a useless scythe of wood,

And something else not worth a name,

(Ridiculous and senseless terrors!) made

Children and superstitious men afraid. 55

The orchard’s open now, and free:

Bacon has broke that scarecrow deity:

Come, enter all that will,