"Those fervent raptures are for ever flown;[EB] And, since their date, my soul hath undergone Change manifold, for better or for worse: 125 Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire[312] Heavenward; and chide the part of me that flags, Through sinful choice; or dread necessity On human nature from above imposed. 'Tis, by comparison, an easy task 130 Earth to despise;[EC] but, to converse with heaven-- This is not easy:--to relinquish all We have, or hope, of happiness and joy, And stand in freedom loosened from this world, I deem not arduous; but must needs confess 135 That 'tis a thing impossible to frame Conceptions equal to the soul's desires; And the most difficult of tasks to _keep_ Heights which the soul is competent to gain. --Man is of dust: ethereal hopes are his, 140 Which, when they should sustain themselves aloft, Want due consistence; like a pillar of smoke, That with majestic energy from earth Rises; but, having reached the thinner air, Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen. 145 From this infirmity of mortal kind Sorrow proceeds, which else were not; at least, If grief be something hallowed and ordained, If, in proportion, it be just and meet, Yet, through this weakness of the general heart, 150 Is it enabled to maintain its hold[313] In that excess which conscience disapproves. For who could sink and settle to that point Of selfishness; so senseless who could be As long[314] and perseveringly to mourn 155 For any object of his love, removed From this unstable world, if he could fix A satisfying view upon that state Of pure, imperishable, blessedness, Which reason promises, and holy writ 160 Ensures to all believers?--Yet mistrust Is of such incapacity, methinks, No natural branch; despondency far less;[315] And, least of all, is absolute despair.[316] 164 --And, if there be whose tender frames have drooped Even to the dust; apparently, through weight Of anguish unrelieved, and lack of power An agonizing sorrow to transmute; Deem not that proof is here of hope withheld[317] When wanted most; a confidence impaired 170 So pitiably, that, having ceased to see With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love Of what is lost, and perish through regret. Oh! no, the innocent Sufferer often sees[318] Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs 175 To realize the vision, with intense And over-constant yearning;--there--there lies The excess, by which the balance is destroyed. Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh, This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs, 180