Excerpt from Intimate Society Letters of the Eighteenth Century, Vol. 1 of 2
OF all the centuries that lie Beneath us in the dust of Time, I like the eighteenth, and I try To paint in thought its fame, and crime.
A wondrous rich mosaic seems Revealed in its last layer of earth: Then rare Invention bade the dreams Of bygone ages move to birth; And What had Fancies been, became The living children of a day, Bright with all Love's ethereal flame, Or black with terror and dismay.
Then rose at last the mental might Of Man to dominate the power That Nature gives in Light and Heat, Volcano's blaze, or vernal shower.
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