"Quickens thy breath with rash inhale,
And falls an insect[107] in its toil?
The creature turns thy life-blood pale,
And blends thine ivory teeth with soil.
"When high thy fellow-mortal soars,
His state is like the topmost nest—
It swings with every blast that roars,
And every motion shakes its crest.
"And if the world for once is kind,
Yet ever has the lot its bend;
Where fortune has the crook inclined,
Not all thy strength or art shall mend.
"For as the sapling's sturdy stalk,
Whose double twist is crossly strain'd,
Such is thy fortune—sure to baulk
At this extreme what there was gain'd.
"When Heaven its gracious manna hail'd,
'Twas vain who hoarded its supply,
Not all his miser care avail'd
His neighbour's portion to outvie.
"So, blended all that nature owns,
So, warp'd all hopes that mortals bless—
With boundless wealth, the sufferer's groans;
With courtly luxury, distress.
"Lift up the balance—heap with gold,
Its other shell vile dust shall fill;
And were a kingdom's ransom told,
The scales would want adjustment still.
"Life has its competence—nor deem
That better than enough were more;
Sure it were phantasy to dream
With burdens to assuage thy sore.
"It is the fancy's whirling strife
That breeds thy pain—to-day it craves,
To-morrow spurns—suffices life
When passion asks what passion braves?
"Should appetite her wish achieve,
To herd with brutes her joy would bound;
Pleased other paradise to leave,
Content to pasture on the ground.