Not "Death to thee straightway"? Your doctrines absolve
Such hailing from hatred: yet Man should know best.
He talks it, and glibly, as life were a load
Man fain would be rid of: when put to the test,
He whines "Let it lie, leave me trudging the road
That is rugged so far, but methinks" ...
The Fates. Ay, 't is owed
To that glamour of thine, he bethinks him "Once past
The stony, some patch, nay, a smoothness of swarth
Awaits my tired foot: life turns easy at last"—