Than fiery song may breathe, deep thought explore;
And there thou smilest, while my heart is dying,
With all its blighted hopes around it lying:
Even thou, on whom they hung their last green leaf——
Yet smile, smile on! too bright art thou for grief!
Death! What! is death a lock’d and treasured thing,
Guarded by swords of fire?[343] a hidden spring,
A fabled fruit, that I should thus endure,
As if the world within me held no cure?
Wherefore not spread free wings——Heaven, heaven! control