Serenely smooth, and free from woe,
Or rude misfortune shall deform
Our life with one continual storm;
Or if the scene shall motley be
Alternate joy and misery,—
Is a desire which, more or less,
All men feel, though few confess.”
So at least affirms the author of the “Rosciad,”—who in another of his writings puts the query:
“Tell me, philosopher, is it a crime
To pry into the secret womb of time;