Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns—is done.
But since that fated word the {princely } sage,
{chief—the}
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
Droops, under burthen of repentant sorrow,
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow.
He hath provoked his fate:
Ever aspiring to the topmost height,
He shuts his ear against the call
Of Reason, therefore let him fall. ms.