Thence trembling casts around his eyes; 150 No foe appear'd, his fears were vain; Pleased he renews the sprightly strain. The hares whose noise had caused his fright, Saw with surprise the linnet's flight. "Is there on earth a wretch," they said, "Whom our approach can strike with dread?" An instantaneous change of thought To tumult every bosom wrought. So fares the system-building sage, Who, plodding on from youth to age, 160 At last on some foundation dream Has rear'd aloft his goodly scheme, And proved his predecessors fools, And bound all nature by his rules; So fares he in that dreadful hour, When injured Truth exerts her power, Some new phenomenon to raise, Which, bursting on his frighted gaze, From its proud summit to the ground Proves the whole edifice unsound. 170 "Children," thus spoke a hare sedate, Who oft had known the extremes of fate, "In slight events the docile mind May hints of good instruction find, That our condition is the worst, And we with such misfortunes curst, As all comparison defy, Was late the universal cry; When, lo! an accident so slight As yonder little linnet's flight, 180 Has made your stubborn hearts confess (So your amazement bids me guess) That all our load of woes and fears Is but a part of what he bears. Where can he rest secure from harms, Whom even a helpless hare alarms? Yet he repines not at his lot; When past, the danger is forgot: On yonder bough he trims his wings, And with unusual rapture sings: 190 While we, less wretched, sink beneath Our lighter ills, and rush to death. No more of this unmeaning rage, But hear, my friends, the words of age: "When, by the winds of autumn driven, The scatter'd clouds fly 'cross the heaven, Oft have we, from some mountain's head, Beheld the alternate light and shade Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers The shadowy cloud; there downward pours, 200 Streaming direct, a flood of day, Which from the view flies swift away; It flies, while other shades advance, And other streaks of sunshine glance. Thus chequer'd is the life below With gleams of joy and clouds of woe. Then hope not, while we journey on, Still to be basking in the sun; Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn, That sunshine will no more return. 210 If, by your terrors overcome, Ye fly before the approaching gloom, The rapid clouds your flight pursue, And darkness still o'ercasts your view. Who longs to reach the radiant plain Must onward urge his course amain: For doubly swift the shadow flies, When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies. At least be firm, and undismay'd Maintain your ground! the fleeting shade 220 Ere long spontaneous glides away, And gives you back the enlivening ray. Lo, while I speak, our danger past!