And waste its Sweetness on the desart Air.
15Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless Breast
The little Tyrant of his Fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his Country’s Blood.
16Th’ Applause of list’ning Senates to command,
The Threats of Pain and Ruin to despise,
To scatter Plenty o’er a smiling Land;
And read their Hist’ry in a Nation’s Eyes
17Their Lot forbad: nor circumscrib’d alone