The flower of innocence, or fraud beguiled,
Or force laid iron hands on man and brute.
CXXXV
I saw regenerate Man, as stainless, free—
A child again on mother Nature’s knee;
His wistful eyes did scan the starry spheres,
His hand outstretched to life’s new-flowering tree.
CXXXVI
The Ages kneeling at his feet did bear
The treasure of their thoughts in caskets rare—