Is Hope; the balm and life-blood of the soul. 315
It pleases, and it lasts. Indulgent heaven
Sent down the kind delusion, thro’ the paths
Of rugged life; to lead us patient on;
And make our happiest state no tedious thing.
Our greatest good, and what we least can spare. 320
Is Hope; the last of all our evils, Fear.
But there are Passions grateful to the breast,
And yet no friends to Life; perhaps they please
Or to excess, and dissipate the soul;