LXXI.

Is it not better, then, to be alone, And love Earth only for its earthly sake? By the blue rushing of the arrowy[319] Rhone,[17.B.] Or the pure bosom of its nursing Lake, Which feeds it as a mother who doth make A fair but froward infant her own care, Kissing its cries away as these awake;--[jf] Is it not better thus our lives to wear, Than join the crushing crowd, doomed to inflict or bear?