A worm! a god!—I tremble at myself,
And in myself am lost! At home a stranger,
Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, 83
And wondering at her own: how reason reels!
O what a miracle to man is man,
Triumphantly distress’d! what joy, what dread!
Alternately transported and alarm’d!
What can preserve my life, or what destroy?
An angel’s arm can’t snatch me from the grave;
Legions of angels can’t confine me there. 90