VI.

Thou, what befits the new Lord Mayor,[64] And what the city factions dare, And what the Gallic arms will do, And what the quiver-bearing foe, Art anxiously inquisitive to know: But God has, wisely, hid from human sight The dark decrees of future fate, And sown their seeds in depth of night; He laughs at all the giddy turns of state, When mortals search too soon, and fear too late.