Elizabeth Bentley (writer)

"Say, lordly Man, of pow'rs possest, That no inferior creatures know; Say, can the mind with reason blest, Relentless fury show. To thy domain all beasts belong, Yet why so merciless thy sway? Why to the harmless, useful throng, Such cruelty display? Let all thy kind compassion share, Through Nature's universal frame; Whatever breathes thy kindred air, Or feels the vital flame."

"Come, swift-wing'd Fancy, airy maid, In varied, dazzling vest array'd, Inspire thy vot'ry's lay; Grant me thy flow'ry walks to tread, To range thy summer-painted mead, Or near thy fountain play. Now led by thy resistless hand, Or guided by thy fairy wand, O'er yet untrodden space; Or on thy pinions borne along, The bright Ideas' flitting throngs Pursue th' aerial race."