No foreign clime they ransack for their robes;

Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar;

Their good is good entire, unmix’d, unmarr’d; 300

They find a paradise in every field,

On boughs forbidden where no curses hang:

Their ill no more than strikes the sense; unstretch’d

By previous dread, or murmur in the rear: 304

When the worst comes, it comes unfear’d; one stroke

Begins, and ends, their woe: they die but once;

Bless’d, incommunicable privilege! for which