When gloom became familiar to the eye;
When I perceive how others seem to rest,
With every evil rankling in my breast—
Led by example, I put on the man,
Sing off my sighs, and trifle as I can.
"Homer! nay, Pope! (for never will I seek
Applause for learning—nought have I with Greek—)
Gives us the secrets of his pagan hell,
Where ghost with ghost in sad communion dwell;
Where shade meets shade, and round the gloomy meads