630
The Lightning playethall the while
But when He singeththen
Ourselves are conscious He exist
And we approach Himstern
With Insulatorsand a Glove
Whose shortsepulchral Bass
Alarms ustho' His Yellow feet
May passand counterpass
Upon the Ropesabove our Head
Continualwith the News
Nor We so much as check our speech
Nor stop to cross Ourselves