X.

This shall not be thy lot, my blessed child! I have not sorrow’d, struggled, lived in vain. Hear me! magnificent and ancient wild; And mighty rivers, ye that meet the main, As deep meets deep; and forests, whose dim shade The flood’s voice, and the wind’s, by swells pervade; Hear me! ’Tis well to die, and not complain; Yet there are hours when the charged heart must speak, E’en in the desert’s ear to pour itself, or break!