Whether by Nature formed, or by long use, This artful diver best can bear the want Of vital air. Unequal is the fight, Beneath the whelming element. Yet there He lives not long; but respiration needs At proper intervals. Again he vents; Again the crowd attack. That spear has pierced _450 His neck; the crimson waves confess the wound. Fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest, Where'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath, With him it mounts; sure guide to every foe. Inly he groans; nor can his tender wound Bear the cold stream. Lo! to yon sedgy bank He creeps disconsolate; his numerous foes Surround him, hounds and men. Pierced through and through, On pointed spears they lift him high in air; Wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain: _460 Bid the loud horns, in gaily warbling strains, Proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies. Rejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping dance Above the wave, in sign of liberty Restored; the cruel tyrant is no more. Rejoice, secure and blessed; did not as yet Remain, some of your own rapacious kind; And man, fierce man, with all his various wiles. O happy, if ye knew your happy state, Ye rangers of the fields! whom Nature boon _470 Cheers with her smiles, and every element Conspires to bless. What, if no heroes frown From marble pedestals; nor Raphael's works, Nor Titian's lively tints, adorn our walls? Yet these the meanest of us may behold; And at another's cost may feast at will Our wondering eyes; what can the owner more? But vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power. The flowery landscape, and the gilded dome, And vistas opening to the wearied eye, _480 Through all his wide domain; the planted grove, The shrubby wilderness with its gay choir Of warbling birds, can't lull to soft repose The ambitious wretch, whose discontented soul Is harrowed day and night; he mourns, he pines, Until his prince's favour makes him great. See, there he comes, the exalted idol comes! The circle's formed, and all his fawning slaves Devoutly bow to earth; from every mouth The nauseous flattery flows, which he returns _490 With promises, that die as soon as born. Vile intercourse! where virtue has no place. Frown but the monarch; all his glories fade; He mingles with the throng, outcast, undone, The pageant of a day; without one friend To soothe his tortured mind; all, all are fled. For though they basked in his meridian ray, The insects vanish, as his beams decline. Not such our friends; for here no dark design, No wicked interest bribes the venal heart; _500 But inclination to our bosom leads, And weds them there for life; our social cups Smile, as we smile; open, and unreserved. We speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth, Soft complaisance, and wit from malice free, Smoothe every brow, and glow on every cheek. O happiness sincere! what wretch would groan