To cross the seas to any foreign soil,
Peril and toil:
Wars with their noise affright us; when they cease,
We’ are worse in peace:— 30
What then remains, but that we still should cry
For being born, or, being born, to die?
Lord Bacon.
V
NATURAL COMPARISONS WITH PERFECT LOVE.
The lowest trees have tops; the ant her gall;
The fly her spleen; the little sparks their heat: