X.
This shall not be thy lot, my blessed child!
I have not sorrow’d, struggled, lived in vain.
Hear me! magnificent and ancient wild;
And mighty rivers, ye that meet the main,
As deep meets deep; and forests, whose dim shade
The flood’s voice, and the wind’s, by swells pervade;
Hear me! ’Tis well to die, and not complain;
Yet there are hours when the charged heart must speak,
E’en in the desert’s ear to pour itself, or break!