II.
Were it not thus, could but our high emprise
Be once fulfilled, which of us would forbear
To seek that haven where contentment lies?
Who would not doff at once life's load of care,
To be at peace amid the silence there?
Ah, who alas?—Across the heat and haze
Death beckons to us in the shadow dun—
Favouring and fair—"My rest is sweet," he says;
But we reluctantly avert our gaze:
Why, but because our task is yet undone?