XLVIII.

Nor be thy generous indignation checked, Nor checked the tender tear to misery given; From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect, This soften and refine the soul for heaven. But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt hath driven To censure Fate, and pious hope forego; Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, Perfection, beauty, life, they never know, But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe.