Chapter 21 No.21

Sonnet

Shall the hag Evil die with the child of Good,

Or propagate again her loathèd kind,

Thronging the cells of the diseased mind,

Hateful with hanging cheeks, a withered brood,

Though hourly pastured on the salient blood?

Oh! that the wind which bloweth cold or heat

Would shatter and o'erbear the brazen beat

Of their broa

            
            

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