Yet, sister dear, it has occurred to me,
That his foul deeds, perchance, proceed from this—
That we have kept ourselves too much aloof,
And left him to his blind and wayward will.
Zay. Man is every thing detestable—
Base in his nature, base in thought and deed,
Loathsome beyond all things that creep and crawl!
Still, sister, I must own I’ve sometimes thought
That we who shape the fortunes of mankind,
And grant such wishes as are free from harm,