In each grand lineament, the work of God!
And happier he, in total Solitude
Than the poor toil-worn wretch, whose ardent Soul
That God has nobly organiz’d, but taught,
For purposes unknown, to bear the scourge
Of sharp adversity, and vulgar pride.
Happier, O! happier far, than those who feel,
Yet live amongst the unfeeling! feeding still
The throbbing heart, with anguish, or with Scorn.
One dreary night when Winter’s icy breath