Then were I blest indeed, and crown'd of fate

T

T

T

As kings are crowned, as bards in their estate

Are rapture-fraught, re-risen above the dust.

Then were I torture-proof, and on the crust

Of one kind word, though as a pittance thrown,

I'd live for weeks! My tears I would disown

And pray, contented with my discontent,

As hermits pray when storms are overblown.

 

 

[50] 

[50]

 

[51] 

[51]

 

 

 Prev. P 43/142 next