Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

Thought would destroy their paradise.

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.

England, so long mistress of the sea, Where winds and waves confess her sovereignty, Her ancient triumphs yet on high shall bear And reign the sovereign of the conquered air.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.