I

How soon—alas! did Man, created pure— By Angels guarded, deviate from the line Prescribed to duty:—woeful forfeiture He made by wilful breach of law divine. With like perverseness did the Church abjure Obedience to her Lord, and haste to twine, 'Mid Heaven-born flowers that shall for aye endure, Weeds on whose front the world had fixed her sign. O Man,—if with thy trials thus it fares, If good can smooth the way to evil choice, From all rash censure be the mind kept free; He only judges right who weighs, compares, And, in the sternest sentence which his voice Pronounces, ne'er abandons Charity.