With all mankind, exhaustless pleasure keen:
Such is my dream.
And, yet, I dream—
I, the despised of fortune, lift mine eye,
Bright with the lustre of integrity,
In unappealing wretchedness on high,
And the last rage of destiny defy;
Resolved, alone to live—alone to die,
Nor swell the tide of human misery.
And, yet, I dream—