And hard the conflict: horrible the thought,

That Love, who boasts of his all-conquering impulse,

Should have to mourn abortive energies...

But in proportion as Mankind increase,

So evils multiply: till Nature's self,

(The native passions of the human mind)

Engender War; which thins, and segregates,

And rectifies the balance of the world:

As thick-sown plants in the vegetable world,

With stretching branches wage continual War;

Each tender bud shrinks from the foreign touch

With a degree of sensitive perception;

Till one deforms, o'er-tops, and kills the other.

  Like Summer swarms, that quit their native hives,

The offspring of increasing families,

Who find no room beneath their father's roofs,

No patrimony nor employ at home,

Colleagu'd in bands explore the desart wilds,

To seek adventures; or to seek their food:

If chance they meet with rovers (like themselves)

 Prev. P 17/79 next