But, ah, they all must perish at last!
As of one beating time to the dance.The sight to the warder seems wondrously queer,When the villainous Tempter speaks thus in his ear:
With softness woven, graceful, light, and fair,Resembling Her, in the blue aether o'er us,
She held a measure in her hand,Her girdle was a golden band,A wreath of corn was on her head,Her eye the day's bright lustre shed;Her name is honest Industry,Else, Justice, Magnanimity.
Truth thus pass'd away.
Thou wouldst rejoice to leaveThis hated land behind,Wert thou not chain'd to meWith friendships flowery chains.