Deadens with magic force each softer lay,
That throng’d the courts, and made the vallies gay:
While the vain phantom, honour, barbs the wand,
That waves destruction o’er the smiling land.
And ’midst the accents of her harsher lays,
Shall she forget to sound the good man’s praise?
Forbid it, every spark of social love,
That made, through life, his every passion move;
That taught his heart with sympathy to glow,
To stem the torrent of domestic woe.