Chapter 783 of 1964 · 69 words · ~1 min read

CX.

Something imperial, or imperious, threw A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you,-- And Rapture's self will seem almost a pain With aught which looks like despotism in view; Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain We would against them make the flesh obey-- The spirit in the end will have its way.