III.
Thought is not trammel’d by earth’s narrow bounds;
It revels in the regions of delight;
And oft when darkness all on earth surrounds,
It springs away to worlds where all is bright;
Affliction comes t’ assist this heavenly flight;
The sorrowing soul, all tired of earth, can feed
On heavenly joys with quicken’d appetite;
And such a rich repast can never need
The sick’ning sweets of earth, that dire diseases breed.