Thy miscreated front athwart my way
To yonder gates? Through them, I mean to pass--
That be assured--without leave asked of thee!
Retire, or taste thy folly; and learn by proof,
Hell-born! not to contend with spirits of heaven!

ANGER.

Next Anger rushed, his eyes on fire; in lightnings owned his secret stings;
with one rude clash he struck the lyre, and swept with hurried hand, the
strings.

PITY.

The Duchess marked his weary pace, his timid mien, and reverend face; and
bade her page the menials tell, that they should tend the old man well; for
she had known adversity, though born in such a high degree; in pride of
power, in beauty's bloom, had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb.

REVENGE.

And longer had she sung--but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rose; he
threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down; and, with a withering look,
the war-denouncing trumpet took, and blew a blast--so loud and dread, were
ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.

COURAGE.

"Fight on!" quoth he, undaunted, but our war-ships steered away;
"She will burst," they said, "and sink us, one and all, beneath the bay;"