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As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slippery that
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil o' the war,
Or pain that only seems to seek out danger,
l'th' name of fame and honour, which dies i' th’ war,
And hath a soft and slanderous epitaph
As record of fair act; nay many times
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse,
Must curtsy at the censure-they would prize
A life retir'd and free.”

Sbaksp.

103. Sonnet-addressed to Solitude.

104. On the Deceitfulness of Hope. Farewell of the

Ruminator.

Qui prorogat horam

Rusticus expectat, dum defiuat amnis." Hor.

As when a traveller

At night's approach, content with the next cot,

There ruminates awhile.

Thus I long travell’d in the ways of men,

And dancing with the rest the giddy maze,

Where disappointment smiles at Hope's career,

At length have hous'd me in an humble shed.”

Young

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