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Strikes his sad eye, but deserts lost in snow; Wheels up again, and re-ascends the sky.
And heavy-loaded groves; and solid floods,

In that glad season, from the lakes and floods,
That stretch, athwart the solitary vast,

Where pure Niemi's * fairy mountains rise, Their icy horrors to the frozen main ;

And fring'd with roses Tenglio + rolls his streamı, And cheerless towns far distant, never bless'd, They draw the copious fry. With these, at eve, Save when its annual course the caravan

They cheerful loaded to their tents repair;
Bends to the golden coast of rich Cathay,*

Where, all day long in useful cares employ'd,
With news of humankind. Yet there life glows; Their kind unblemish'd wives the fire prepare.
Yet cherish'd there, beneath the shining waste, Thrice happy race! by poverty secur'd
The furry nations harbour: tipt with jet,

From legal plunder and rapacious power :
Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press; In whom fell intrest never yet has sown
Sables, of glossy black; and dark embrown'd, The seeds of vice : whose spotless swains ne'er knew
Or beauteous freak'd with many a mingled hue, Injurious deed, nor, blasted by the breath
Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. Of faithless love, their blooming daughters woe.
There, warm together press'd, the trooping deer Still pressing on beyond Tornea's lake,
Sleep on the new-fall’n snows; and, scarce his head And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow,
Rais'd o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk And furthest Greenland, to the pole itself,
Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss.

Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out,
The ruthless hunter wants not dogs nor toils, The Muse expands her solitary flight;
Nor with the dread of sounding bows he drives And, hov'ring o'er the wild stupendous scene,
The fearful flying race; with ponderous clubs, Beholds new seas beneath another sky. I
As weak against the mountain heaps they push Thron'd in his palace of cerulean ice,
Their beating breast in vain, and piteous bray, Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court;
He lays them quivering on th' ensanguin'd snows, And through his airy hall the loud misrule
And with loud shouts rejoicing bears them home. Of driving tempest is for ever heard :
There through the piny forest half-absorpt,

Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath :
Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear, Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost;
With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn ;

Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows,
Slow-pac'd, and sourer as the storms increase, With which he now oppresses half the globe.
He makes his bed beneath th' inclement drift,

Thence winding eastward to the Tartar's coast,
And, with stern patience, scorning weak complaint, She sweeps the howling margin of the main;
Hardens his heart against assailing want.

Where undissolving, from the first of time, Wide o'er the spacious regions of the north, Snows swell on snows amazing to the sky; That see Bootes urge his tardy wain,

And icy mountains high on mountains pil'd, A boisterous race, by frosty Caurust pierc'd,

Seem to the shivering sailor from afar,
Who little pleasure know and fear no pain,

Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds.
Prolific swarm. They once relum'd the flame Projected huge, and horrid o'er the surge,
Of lost mankind in polish'd slavery sunk,

Alps frown on Alps; or rushing hideous down,
Drove martial horde on horde, i with dreadful sweep As if old Chaos was again return'd,
Resistless rushing o'er th' enfeebled south,

Wide rends the deep, and shake the solid pole.
And gave the vanquish'd world another form. Ocean itself no longer can resist
Not such the sons of Lapland : wisely they

The binding fury; but, in all its rage
Despise th' insensate barbarous trade of war; Of tempest taken by the boundless frost,
They ask no more than simple Nature gives,

Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd, They love their mountains and enjoy their storms. And bid to roar no more: a bleak expanse, No false desires, no pride-created wants,

Shagg’d o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless and void Disturb the peaceful current of their time;

Of every life, that from the dreary months And through the restless ever-tortur'd maze

Flies conscious southward. Miserable they ! Of pleasure, or ambition, bid it rage.

Who, here entangled in the gathering ice, Their rein-deer form their riches. Th

their tents,

Take their last look of the descending sun;
Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth While, full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost,
Supply, their wholesome fare, and cheerful cups. The long long night, incumbent o'er their heads,
Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe

Falls horrible. Such was the Briton's fate
Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift, As with first prow (what have not Briton's dar'd ?)
O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanse

He for the passage sought, attempted since
Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep

So much in vain, and seeming to be shut With a blue crust of ice unbounded glaz'd.

By jealous Nature with eternal bars. By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shake In these fell regions, in Arzina caught, A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens,

And to the stony deep his idle ship And vivid moons and stars that keener play

Immediate seal'd, he with his hapless crew, With doubled lustre from the glossy waste,

* M. de Maupertuis, in his book on the figure of the earth, Even in the depth of polar night, they find

after having described the beautiful lake and mountain of A wondrous day: enough to light the chase,

Niemi, in Lapland, says, " From this height we bad opporOr guide their daring steps to Finland fairs.

tunity several times to see those vapours rise from the lake Wish'd Spring returns; and, from the hazy south, which the people of the country call Haltios, and which they While dim Aurora slowly moves before,

deem to be the guardian spirits of the mountains. We had

been frightened with stories of bears that haunted this place, The welcome sun, just verging up at first,

but saw none. It seemed rather a place of resort for faries By small degrees extends the swelling curve; and genii, than bears." Till seen at last for gay rejoicing months,

# The same author observes, “ I was surprised to see upon Still round and round his spiral course he winds ; the banks of this river (the Tenglio) roses of as lively a red And as he nearly dips his flaming orb,

as any that are in our gardens."

The other hemisphere. The old name of China. + The north-west wind. Sir Hugh Willoughby, sent by Queen Elizabeth to dis* The wandering Scythian clans.

cover the north-east-passage.

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Each full exerted at his several task,

But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave. Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued

And, hark! the lengthening roar continuous runs The sailor, and the pilot to the helm.

Athwart the rifted deep : at once it bursts, Hard by these shores, where scarce his freezing And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds. stream

Ill fares the bark with trembling wretches charg’d, Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of men

That, toss'd amid the floating fragments, moors And half enliven'd by the distant sun,

Beneath the shelter of an icy isle, That rears and ripens man, as well as plants,

While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks Here human nature wears its rudest form.

More horrible. Can human force endure
Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves, Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round ?
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer,

Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness,
They waste their tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs, The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice,
Doze the gross race. Nor sprightly jest, nor song, Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage,
Nor tenderness they know; nor aught of life, And in dire echoes bellowing round the main.
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without.

More to embroil the deep, Leviathan
Till morn at length, her roses drooping all,

And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their fields, Tempest the loosen'd brine, while through the gloom, And calls the quivering savage to the chase.

Far from the bleak inhospitable shore, What cannot active government perform,

Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl New-moulding man! Wide-stretching from these Of famish'd monsters there awaiting wrecks. shores,

Yet Providence, that ever-waking eye, A people savage from remotest time,

Looks down with pity on the feeble toil A huge neglected empire, one vast mind,

Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe, By Heaven inspir'd, from gothic darkness call’d. Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. Immortal Peter! first of monarchs ! he

'Tis done! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, His stubborn country tam'd, her rocks, her fens, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons ;

How dead the vegetable kingdom Jies ! And while the fierce barbarian he subdu'd,

How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends To more exalted soul he rais'd the man.

His desolate domain. Behold, fond man! Ye shades of ancient heroes, ye who toil'd

See here thy pictur'd life! Pass some few years, Through long successive ages to build up

Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, A labouring plan of state, behold at once

Thy sober Autumn fading into age, The wonder done! behold the matchless prince And pale concluding Winter comes at last, Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled A mighty shadow of unreal power ;

Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes Who greatly spurn'd the slothful pomp of courts ; Of happiness ? those longings after fame? And roaming every land, and every port,

Those restless cares? those busy bustling days ? His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand

Those gay-spent festive nights ? those veering thoughts, Unwearied plying the mechanic tool,

Lost between good and ill, that shar'd thy life? Gather'd the seeds of trade, of useful arts,

All'now are vanish'd! Virtue sole survives, Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill.

Immortal never-failing friend of man, Charg'd with the stores of Europe home he goes ; His guide to happiness on high. And see! Then cities rise amid th' illumin'd waste ;

'Tis come, the glorious morn! the second birth D'er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign ;

Of heaven and earth! Awakening Nature hears Par-distant flood to flood is social join'd ;

The new-creating word, and starts to life, Th' astonish'd Euxine hears the Baltic roar;

In every heighten'd form, from pain and death Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd

For ever free. The great eternal scheme, With daring keel before ; and armies stretch

Involving all, and in a perfect whole Each way their dazzling files, repressing bere

Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads, The frantic Alexander of the north,

To reason's eye retin'd clears up apace. And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons. Ye vainly wise! ye blind presumptuous ! now, Sloth flies the land, and ignorance, and vice,

Confounded in the dust, adore that Power, of old disbonour proud : it glows around,

And Wisdom oft arraign'd: see now the cause, Taught by the royal hand that rous'd the whole, Why unassuming worth in secret liv'd, One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade :

And died neglected : why the good man's share For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforc'd,

In life was gall and bitterness of soul : More potent still, his great example shew'd.

Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point,

In starving solitude; while luxury, Blow hollow blustering from the south. Subdu'd,

In palaces, lay straining her low thought, The frost resolves into a trickling thaw.

To form unreal wants : why heaven-born truth, Spotted the mountains shine; loose sleet descends,

And moderation fair, wore the red marks And floods the country round. The rivers swell,

Of superstition's scourge : why licens'd pain, Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills,

That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts,

Embitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distrest! A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once :

Ye noble few! who here unbending stand And, where they rush, the wide-resounding plain

Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas,

And what your bounded view, which only saw That wash'd th’ ungenial pole, will rest no more

A little part, deem'd evil, is no more :
Beneath the shackles of the mighty north ;

The storms of wintry Time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all.



TAESE, as they change, Almighty Father, these Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
Are but the varied God. The rolling year

As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring

Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love.

Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm ; Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles ; Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
And every sense, and every heart is joy.

Great source of day! best image here below
Then comes Thy glory in the Summer-months, Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun From world to world, the vital ocean round,
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : On Nature write with every beam His praise,
And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks : The thunder rolls ! be hush'd the prostrate world!
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,

While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales Bleat out afresh, ye hills : ye mossy rocks,
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd,

Retain the sound: the broad responsive low,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. Ye valleys, raise ; for the Great Shepherd reigns ;
In Winter, awful Thou! with clouds and storms And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Around Thee thrown, tempest o’er tempest roll'd, Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song
Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing,

Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day,
Riding sublime, Thou bidd'st the world adore, Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
And humblest Nature with Thy northern blast. Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela, charm

Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine, The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,

Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,

At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;

Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast, Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade ;

Assembled men, to the deep organ join And all so forming an harmonious whole;

The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.

At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ;
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, And, as each mingling flame increases each,
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand, In one united ardour rise to heaven.
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ;

Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence And find a fane in every sacred grove ;
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ; There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day;

The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest forth ; Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll.
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, For me, when I forget the darling theme,
With transport touches all the springs of life.

Whether the blossom blows, the summer-ray Nature, attend ! join, every living soul,

Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky;

Or Winter rises in the blackening east; In adoration join; and, ardent, raise

Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, ! One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales,

And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes;

Should fate command me to the furthest verge Oh, talk of Him in solitary glooms,

Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely-waving pine

Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.

Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,

Flames on th' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me, Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven

Since God is ever present, ever felt, Th’ impetuous song, and say from whom you rage.

In the void waste as in the city full; His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;

And where He vital breathes there must be joy. And let me catch it as I muse along.

When even at last the solemn hour shall come, Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound;

And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze

I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,

Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go A secret world of wonders in thyself,

Where Universal Love smiles not around, Sound his stupendous praise ; whose greater voice

Sustaining all yon orbs, and

their suns ; Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.

From seeming evil still educing good, Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, And better thence again, and better still, In mingled clouds to Him; whose sun exalts,

In infinite progression. But I lose Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. Myself in Him, in Light ineffable! Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him;

Come then, expressive Silence, muse His praise.

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The Castle high of Indolence,
And its false luxury,
Where for a little time, alas!
We liv'd right jollily.

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And up the hills, on either side, a wood O MORTAL man! who livest here by toil

Of blackening pines, ay.* waving to and fro, Do not complain of this thy hard estate;

Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood; That like an emmet thou must ever moil,*

And where this valley winded out, below, Is a sad sentence of an ancient date :

The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard And, certes, + there is for it reason great;

to flow. For though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail,

VI. And curse thy star, and early drudge, and late,

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was, Withouten that would come an heavier bale, I

Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye, Loose lire, unruly passions, and diseases pale.

And of gay castles in the cloud that pass,

For ever flushing round a summer sky; In lowly dale, fast by a river's side,

There eke + the soft delights, that witchingly With woody hill o'er hill encompass'd round,

Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast,
A most enchanting wizard did abide,

And the calm pleasures, always hover'd nigh;
Than whom a fiend more fell is no where found. But whate'er smack'd I of noyances or unrest
It I
ween, a lovely spot of ground;

Was far, far off expellid from this delicious nest. And there a season atween June and May,

VII. Half prankt|| with Spring, with Summer half embrown'd,

The landscape such, inspiring perfect ease,

Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight) A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,

Close hid his Castle 'mid embowering trees, No living wight** could work, neh cared even for

That half shut out the beams of Phæbus bright,

And made a kind of checker'd day and night;

Mean while, unceasing at the massy gate,
Was nought around but images of rest,

Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between,

Was plac'd, and to his lute, of cruel fate, And flowery beds that slumb'rous influence kest #

And labour harsh complain'd, lamenting man's estate. From poppies breath'd and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen.

VIII. | Meantime annumber'd glittering streamlets play'd, Thither continual pilgrims crowded still, And hurled every where their waters sheen, og

From all the roads of earth that pass thereby; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, For as they chanc'd to breathe on neighbouring hill, Though restless still themselve, a lulling murmur made. The freshness of this valley smote their eye, IV.

And drew them ever and anon more nigh; Join’d to the prattle of the purling rills

Till clustering round th' enchanter false they hung, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale,

Ymolten || with his syren melody,

While o'er th' enfeebling lute his hand he flung, And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale;

And to the trembling chords these tempting verses And now and then sweet Philomel would wail,

sung:Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep,

That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale;
And stin a coil the grasshopper did keep;

“ Behold, ye pilgrims of this earth! behold,

See all but man with unearn'd pleasure gay;
Yet all these sounds yblent |||| inclined all to sleep.

See ber bright robes the butterfly unfold,

Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May!
Pull in the passage of the vale, above,

What youthful bride can equal her array ! A sable, silent, solemn, forest stood,

Who can with her for easy pleasure vie ? Where nought but shadowy forms were seen to move,

From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray, As idless fancy'd in her dreaming mood;

From flow'r to flow'r on balmy gales to fly,

Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky. • Labour.

+ Certainly. 1 Sorrow, Between, Coloured. Truth. ** Man,

tt Nor.

* Always.

† Also,

1 Savoured. $$ Bright. MIN Blended.



# Cast.


And torture man, a proud malignant worm? “ Behold the merry minstrels of the morn,

But here, instead, soft gales of passion play, The swarming songsters of the careles3 grove,

And gently stir the heart, thereby to form Ten thousand throats, that from the flowering thorn,

A quicker sense of joy; as breezes stray Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love,

Across th’ enliven'd skies, and make them still more Such grateful kindly raptures them emove:

gay. They neither plough nor sow; ne, fit for flail,

E'er to the barn the nodden sheaves they drove, “ The best of men have ever lov'd repose;
Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale,

They hate to mingle in the filthy fray,
Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the vale.

Where the soul sours, and gradual rancour grows;

Embitter'd more from peevish day to day.

Even those whom Fame had lent her fairest ray, “ Outcast of Nature, man! the wretched thrall

The most renown's of worthy wights of yore, or bitter dropping sweat, of swealtry pain,

From a base world at last have stol'n away: Of cares that eat away thy heart with gall,

So Scipio, to the soft Cumæan shore,
And of the vices an inhuman train,

Retiring, tasted joy he never knew before.
That all proceed from savage thirst of gain ;
For when hard-hearted interest first began

To poison earth, Astræa left the plain;

“ But if a little exercise you choose, Guile, violence, and murder, seiz'd on man,

Some zest for ease, 'tis not forbidden here ;
And for soft milky streams, with blood the rivers ran.

Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse,

Or tend the blooms, and deck the vernal year;

Or, softly stealing, with your watery gear, “ Come ye! who still the cumb'rous load of life

Along the brooks, the crimsou-spotted fry
Push hard up hill, but as the farthest steep

You may delude; the whilst, amus'd you hear
You trust to gain, and put an end to strife,
Down thunders back the stone with mighty sweep,

Now the hoarse stream, and now the zeph yr's sigh,

Attuned to the birds' and woodlands' melody. .
And hurls your labours to the valley deep,
For ever vain; come, and withouten fee,

I in oblivion will your sorrows steep,
Your cares, your toils; will steep you in a sea

“ O grievious folly! to heap up estate, Of full delight; 0 come, ye weary wights ! to me.

Losing the days you see beneath the sun ;

When, sudden comes blind unrelenting Fate,

And gives th' untasted portion you have won, “ With me you need not rise at early dawn,

With ruthless toil, and many a wretch undone, To pass the joyless day in various stounds ;*

To those who mock you gone to Pluto's reign, Or, loutingt low, on upstart fortune fawn,

There with sad ghosts to pine and shadows dun: And sell fair honour for some paltry pounds;

But sure it is of vanities most vain, Or through the city take your dirty rounds,

To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain.” To cheat, and dun, and lie, and visit pay,

Now flattering base, now giving secret wounds ;

He ceas'd; but still their trembling ears retain'd
Or prowl in courts of law for human prey,
In venal senate thrive, or rob on broad highway.

The deep vibrations of his witching song,

That, by a kind of magic power, constrain'd

To enter in, pell-mell the listening throng. “ No cocks, with me, to rustic labour call,

Heaps pour'd on heaps, and yet they slipt along,

In silent ease : as when beneath the beam
From village on to village sounding clear;
No tardy swain, no shrill-voic'd matrons squall;

Of summer moons, the distant woods among,
No dogs, no babes, no wives, to stun your ear;

Or by some flood all silver'd with the gleam, No hammers thump; no horrid blacksmith sear.

The soft embodied fays* through airy portal stream. Ne noisy tradesmen your sweet slumbers start

XXI. With sounds that are a misery to hear ;

By the smooth demon so it order'd was, But all is calm, as would delight the heart

And here his baneful bounty first began; Of Syborite of old, all nature, and all arts,

Though some there were who would not further pass, XV.

And his alluring baits suspected hangt “ Here nought but candour reigns, indulgent ease,

The wise distrust the too fair-spoken man. Good-natur'd lounging, sauntering up and down;

Yet through the gate they cast a wistful eye:
They who are pleas’d themselves must always please; For do their very best they cannot fly,

Not to move on, perdie, I is all they can;
On other's ways they never squint a frown,
Nor heed what haps in hamlet or in town:

But often each way look, and often sorely sigh.
Thus, from the source of tender indolence,

XXII. With milky blood the heart is overflown,

When this the watchful wicked wizard saw, Is sooth'd and sweeten'd by the social sense ;

With sudden spring he leap'd upon them straight,
For interest, envy, pride, and strife, are banish'd hence.

And soon as touch'd by his unhallow'd paw,

They found themselves within the cursed gate, “ What, what is virtue, but repose of mind,

Full hard to be repass'd, like that of Fate, A pure ethereal calm, that knows no storm,

Not stronger were of old the giant crew, Above the reach of wild ambition, blind,

Who sought to pull high Jove from regal state;
Above those passions that this world deform,

Though feeble wretch he seem'd of sallow hue,
Certes, who bides his grasp will that encounter rue.

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