To meet the flints?—At least it may be said,
'Because the way is short, I thank thee, God!'"
And so at the sea the burnie's race was run and it found peace. Immensity gives peace always. It is so vain to strive in the presence of the ocean, for it tells of forces irresistible. It obeys its own laws, caring for nought:
"Libel the ocean on its tawny sands, write verses
In its praise; the unmoved sea erases both alike.
Alas for man! unless his fellows can behold his deeds,
He cares not to be great."
Not so. O poet, when man stands on the shore and thinks, for then he feels his nothingness, and the applause of his fellows is valued as so much noise merely, except as it serves as proof that he has stirred them for the right. This state lasts unless he lifts his eyes to the skies above the waste, and renews his vows to the Goddess of Duty. He learns, not in the depths nor on the level of ocean's surface, but from higher and beyond—that life is worth living, then he takes up his task and goes on, saying
"And whether crowned or crownless when I fall
It matters not, so as God's work is done.