’Tis Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires
Beyond the short extent of human thought.
But hold! I see her from her covert break;
Sad on yon little eminence she sits;
Intent she listens, with one ear erect,
Pondering, and doubtful what new course to take,
And how t’ escape the fierce, blood-thirsty crew
That still urge on, and still in valleys loud
Insult her woes, and mock her sore distress.
As now in louder peals the loaded winds