II.

I strive to number o'er what days[ls] Remembrance can discover, Which all that Life or Earth displays Would lure me to live over. There rose no day, there rolled no hour Of pleasure unembittered;[298] And not a trapping decked my Power That galled not while it glittered.

III.[lt]

The serpent of the field, by art And spells, is won from harming; But that which coils around the heart, Oh! who hath power of charming? It will not list to Wisdom's lore, Nor Music's voice can lure it; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it.

Seaham, 1815.

WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY.