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Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy.html">boy? XXIV. Thus bending o'er the vessel's laving side, The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride, None are so desolate but something dear, A thought, and claims the homage of a tear; Would still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart divest. XXV. To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean: Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled. XXVI. But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, And roam along, the world.html">world's tired denizen, Minions of splendour shrinking from distress! If we were not, would seem to smile the less This is to be alone; this, this is solitude! XXVII. More blest the life of godly eremite, Watching at eve upon the giant height, That he who there at such an hour hath been, Then slowly tear him from the witching scene, Then turn to hate a world he had almost forgot. XXVIII. Pass we the long, unvarying course, the track Pass we the calm, the gale, the change, the tack, Pass we the joys and sorrows sailors find, The foul, the fair, the contrary, the kind, Till on some jocund morn--lo, land! and all is well. XXIX. But not in silence pass Calypso's isles, There for the weary still a haven smiles, And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep Here, too, his boy essayed the dreadful leap While thus of both bereft, the nymph-queen doubly sighed. .

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