I scarce had deem’d that aught from hell could roil
Such dregs of bitterness long undisturb’d.
XXX.
The fault, sigh’d conscience, had been all my own:
How safely might one sail the sea of life
If all his reckonings were but true to heaven!
Ah, siren-like, a rivalling earthly love
May lure to realms whose mountain heights are clouds,
Clouds warmly hued above a cold gray shoal,
Whose only outlines are the breakers’ caps,