A crown Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns, Bring dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights To him who wears the regal diadem
His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
The sacred influence of light appears.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.