Something imperial, or imperious, threw

A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain

Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you,—

And Rapture's self will seem almost a pain

With aught which looks like despotism in view;

Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain

We would against them make the flesh obey—

The spirit in the end will have its way.