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So vainly wiſh'd, ſo fondly hop'd the Muſe:
Too fondly hop'd. The iron fates prevail,
And Cyrnus is no more. Her generous ſons,
Leſs vanquiſh'd than o'erwhelm'd, by numbers cruſh'd,
Admir'd, unaided fell. So ſtrives the moon
In dubious battle with the gathering clouds,
And ſtrikes a ſplendour thro' them; till at length
Storms roll'd on ſtorms involve the face of heaven
And quench her ſtruggling fires. Forgive the zeal
That, too preſumptuous, whiſper'd better things
And read the book of deſtiny amiſs.
Not with the purple colouring of ſucceſs
Is virtue beſt adorn'd: th' attempt is praiſe.
There yet remains a freedom, nobler far
Than kings or ſenates can deſtroy or give;
Beyond the proud oppreſſor's cruel graſp
Seated ſecure; uninjur'd; undeſtroy'd;
Worthy of Gods: The freedom of the mind.
The