Fears of the fearful, troubles of the tried,

To smooth each anxious pain, all griefs, away,

That ceaseless in the human heart abide,

Have power to soothe, to cast cold care aside;

Bid cords of Hope inanimate vibrate,

Th' insatiate longings of the soul subside,

And curb the stormy passions of the great,

Make earth a heaven, and holiness preponderate.

XLIX.

What is Ambition? what is Pride? and this

That boils the blood and parches all the frame;

That stirs the breast to ecstasies? What bliss,

What bursts of glory in a mighty Name!

But what of these! to me 'tis all the same

Whether a humble cottage or a throne.

What, what to me is Glory? what is Fame?

Give me the woods and let me be alone;

I want no marble bust, I ask no graven stone![18]

[18]

L.

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