Yet now a narrow space contents her quite,
Since Time’s wild wave so many a fortune stranded.
Care at the bottom of the heart is lurking;
Her secret pangs in silence working,
She, restless, rocks herself, disturbing joy and rest;
In newer masks her face is ever drest,
By turns as house and land, as wife and child, presented,—
As water, fire, as poison, steel;
We dread the blows we never feel,
And what we never lose is yet by us lamented.[201]