The spirit walks of every day deceased.
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
We wish our names eternally to live; Wild dream! which ne'er had haunted human thought, Had not our natures been eternal too.
Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.