Is there not Danger in those days of peace,
When troubles lessen, and when terrors cease,
Lest, from the love of novelty, the sin,
Of changeful man, some wandering should begin?
Lest a successful spirit, in its pride,
Should not contented with its peace abide?
“Not Troilus more true or fond could be,
Not Orpheus to his lost Eurydice,
Than to his Harriet Henry—all was done
On either part, and either heart was won.