The boisterous ocean, from on shore to view
The toiling mariner; not that the pain
Of others gives us pleasure, but for that
To see what ills we ’scape ourselves is sweet:
And it is sweet, when armies on the plain
Array’d for battle join in mortal strife,
To stand aloof from danger and look on:
But nothing sweeter is, than all serene
In the strong towers of wisdom high to dwell,
And thence look down upon the wandering race