What is dark within me, illumine.
These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.
Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.
Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy.
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.