With halting pace so while I would me raise
To the unbounded limits of Thy praise,
Some part of way I thought to have o'errun;
But now I see how scarce I have begun—
With wonders new my spirits range possest,
And, wandering wayless, in a maze them rest.
Oh! that the cause which doth consume our joy
Would the remembrance of it too destroy!
LIFE.
Woods cut again do grow: