Day follows day, and pain succeeds to pain.
In nature bounded, infinite in wish,
Man is a fallen god rememb’ring Heaven:
Whether that, disinherited of all
His pristine glory, he doth still preserve
The mem’ry of his former destinies,
Or that the vastness of his wishes gives
A distant presage of his future greatness—
Imperfect at his birth, or fallen since—
The great, the awful mystery is man.