A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.