Dissolve, and crumble into dust?”
There are, who, with a wild desire
For slumber, blinded by the fire,
Sink in its ashes and expire.
God pity them! too harsh a test
Has made them falter; sore distrest,
They barter everything for rest.
But many, of a sterner mould,
Themselves within themselves infold,
Even make Death unloose his hold,