Book ix.
The primal duties shine aloft, like stars,
The charities, that soothe, and heal, and bless,
Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.
HON. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER.
1770-1834.
Lines to Lady A. Hamilton.
Too late I stayed—forgive the crime;
Unheeded flew the hours.
How noiseless falls the foot of time,
That only treads on flowers!