Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.
The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.