While yet in early Greece she sung,
I’m pleased, and yet I’m sad.
In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
O, thou, the nymph with placid eye,
By Philip’s warlike son;
And on the light fantastic toe
Thus hand-in-hand through life we’ll go;
Good-night to Marmion.
LIFE.
1.—Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?