He hath cast off follies, and kept aloof from cares; a man of simple wants;
God and the soul, these are his excuse, a just excuse, for solitude:
But he carried with him to his cell the half-dead feelings of humanity;
There were they rested and refreshed; and he yearned once more on men.
Where is the wise, or the learned, or the good, that sought not solitude for thinking,
And from seclusion's secret vale brought forth his precious fruits?
Forests of Aricia, your deep shade mellowed Numa's wisdom,
Peaceful gardens of Vaucluse, ye nourished Petrarch's love;