⁠I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres
Is rolling on its course of light
⁠In endless bliss, through endless years;
I'll think, there's not one world above,
⁠Far as these straining eyes can see,
Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love,
⁠Or Virtue crouched to Infamy;

Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate,
⁠The mangled wretch was forced to smile;
To match his patience 'gainst her hate,
⁠His heart rebellious all the while.
Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong,
⁠And helpless Reason warn in vain;
And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong;
⁠And Joy the surest path to Pain;
And Peace, the lethargy of Grief;
⁠And Hope, a phantom of the soul;
And Life, a labour, void and brief;
⁠And Death, the despot of the whole!