For them who in the shades of sorrow dwell, 90
That I—so near the term to human life
Appointed by man’s common heritage,[78]
Frail as the frailest, one withal (if that
Deserve a thought) but little known to fame—
Am free to rove where Nature’s loveliest looks, 95
Art’s noblest relics, history’s rich bequests,
Failed to reanimate and but feebly cheered
The whole world’s Darling—free to rove at will
O’er high and low, and if requiring rest,