Thine, thine is that true life; that is to live,
To rest secure, and not rise up to grieve.
Samuel Daniel.
The good alone are great!
When winds the mountain oak assail,
And lay its glories waste,
Content may slumber in the vale,
Unconscious of the blast.
Through scenes of tumult while we roam,
The heart, alas! is ne’er at home;