When storms are his chariot, and lightnings Try what repentance can; what can it not?

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?

his steeds, The black clouds his banner of vengeance un- O wretched state! O bosom black as death! furled, O limèd soul, that struggling to be free,

And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken Art more engaged!

world;

Not such was the rainbow, that beautiful one!
Whose arch was refraction, its key-stone the

sun;

A pavilion it seemed which the Deity graced,
And Justice and Mercy met there and embraced.
CAMPBELL.

SHAKSPEARE.

I have gnashed

My teeth in darkness till returning morn,
Then cursed myself till sunset; I have prayed
For madness as a blessing; 'tis denied me.

BYRON.