With all their wishes freighted! Yet even these,
Freighted with all their wishes, soon complain;
Free from misfortune, not from nature free,
They still are men; and when is man secure?
As fatal time, as storm! the rush of years
Beats down their strength; their numberless escapes 210
In ruin end: and, now, their proud success
But plants new terrors on the victor’s brow:
What pain to quit the world, just made their own,
Their nest so deeply down’d, and built so high!