SWEET, when the great sea’s water is stirred to his depths by the storm-winds, Standing ashore to descry one afar-off mightily struggling: Not that a neighbour’s sorrow to you yields blissful enjoyment; But that the sight hath a sweetness, of ills ourselves are exempt from. Sweet ’tis too to behold, on a broad plain mustering, war-hosts Arm them for some great battle, one’s self unscathed by the danger:— Yet still happier this:—To possess, impregnably guarded, Those calm heights of the sages, which have for an origin Wisdom; Thence to survey our fellows, observe them this way and that way Wander amidst Life’s paths, poor stragglers seeking a highway: Watch mind battle with mind, and escutcheon rival escutcheon; Gaze on that untold strife, which is waged ’neath the sun and the starlight, Up as they toil to the surface whereon rest Riches and Empire. O race born unto trouble! O minds all lacking of eyesight! ’Neath what a vital darkness, amidst how terrible dangers, Move ye thro’ this thing, Life, this fragment! Fools, that ye hear not Nature clamour aloud for the one thing only; that, all pain Parted and past from the Body, the Mind too bask in a blissful Dream, all fear of the future and all anxiety over! So, as regards Man’s Body, a few things only are needful, (Few, tho’ we sum up all,) to remove all misery from him; Aye, and to strew in his path such a lib’ral carpet of pleasures, That scarce Nature herself would at times ask happiness ampler. Statues of youth and of beauty may not gleam golden around him, (Each in his right hand bearing a great lamp lustrously burning, Whence to the midnight revel a light may be furnished always); Silver may not shine softly, nor gold blaze bright, in his mansion, Nor to the noise of the tabret his halls gold-cornicèd echo:— Yet still he, with his fellow, reposed on the velvety greensward, Near to a rippling stream, by a tall tree canopied over, Shall, though they lack great riches, enjoy all bodily pleasure. Chiefliest then, when above them a fair sky smiles, and the young year Flings with a bounteous hand over each green meadow the wild-flowers:— Not more quickly depart from his bosom fiery fevers, Who beneath crimson hangings and pictures cunningly broidered Tosses about, than from him who must lie in beggarly raiment. Therefore, since to the Body avail not Riches, avails not Heraldry’s utmost boast, nor the pomp and the pride of an Empire; Next shall you own, that the Mind needs likewise nothing of these things. Unless—when, peradventure, your armies over the champaign Spread with a stir and a ferment, and bid War’s image awaken, Or when with stir and with ferment a fleet sails forth upon Ocean— Cowed before these brave sights, pale Superstition abandon Straightway your mind as you gaze, Death seem no longer alarming,