That power Which erring men call Chance.

For so I created them free and free they must remain.

Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.

Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;Evil,be thou my good.

This is servitude, To serve the unwise.