R. Buchanan, 1866 (Bexhill).
Buchanan is speaking of the sad lives in the poor quarters of London.
Cold as a mountain in its star-pitched tent
Stood high Philosophy, less friend than foe:
Whom self-caged Passion, from its prison-bars,
Is always watching with a wondering hate.
Not till the fire is dying in the grate
Look we for any kinship with the stars.
G. Meredith (Modern Love IV.)