VII.

Thus then the Universe grieves not, and I Mid woes innumerable languish still To cheer the whole and every happier part.-- Yet, if each part is suffered by Thy will To call for aid--as Thou art God most High, Who to all beings wilt Thy strength impart; Who smoothest every change by secret art, With fond care tempering the force of fate, Necessity and concord, power and thought, And love divine through all things subtly wrought-- I am persuaded, when I iterate My prayers to Thee, some comfort I must find For these pangs poison-fraught, Or leave the sweet sharp lust of life behind.