move, and, ere that one himself become aware, find
himself responsible for kind (?) endeavors.
Would that my pen or pity could raise these weak, [15]
pitifully poor objects from their choice of self-degrada-
tion to the nobler purposes and wider aims of a life made
honest: a life in which the fresh flowers of feeling blos-
som, and, like the camomile, the more trampled upon,
the sweeter the odor they send forth to benefit mankind; [20]
a life wherein calm, self-respected thoughts abide in
tabernacles of their own, dwelling upon a holy hill, speak-