[SORROW.]
O Sacred Sorrow, by whom Souls are tried,
Sent not to punish Mortals, but to guide:
If Thou art mine (and who shall proudly dare
To tell his Maker, he has had his share?)—
Still let me feel for what thy pangs are sent,
And be my Guide, and not my punishment!
[A FRAGMENT.]
What, though the Horse I hired, the villain Hack,
Meek as I [am], would throw me on my Back;
Tho’ musing much—in slow and solemn pace,
The Urchin Crew would laugh me to my face!
I woo’d the Muses, meditating Song,
Some Sideway ditch would woo my feet, half Mud,
Half Ink, and plunge me in the sombre flood.