In lectures told his sufferings sore;
Till purple tyrants blush’d with shame
And crowds the suffering saint adore.
But thou, O Godwin! meek and mild;
Speak thy metaphysic page:
Now it cheer’d a laggard age,
And bade new scenes of joy at distance hail;
When tyrant Kings shall be no more,
When human wants and wars shall fail,
And sleep and death shall quit the hallow’d shore.