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INSCRIPTION IN AN HERMITAGE.
Whoe'er thou art these lines now reading,
Think not, though from the world receding,
I joy my lonely days to lead in
This desert drear:
That, with remorse, a conscience bleeding
Hath led me here.
Think not, though from the world receding,
I joy my lonely days to lead in
This desert drear:
That, with remorse, a conscience bleeding
Hath led me here.
No thought of guilt my bosom sours;
Free will'd I fled from courtly bowers;
For well I saw in halls and towers,
That lust and pride,
The arch-fiends dearest, darkest, powers,
In state preside.
Free will'd I fled from courtly bowers;
For well I saw in halls and towers,
That lust and pride,
The arch-fiends dearest, darkest, powers,
In state preside.
I saw mankind with vice incrusted;
1 saw that honour's sword was rusted;
That few for aught but folly lusted;
That he was still deceived who trusted
In love or friend,
And hither came, with men disgusted,
My life to end.
1 saw that honour's sword was rusted;
That few for aught but folly lusted;
That he was still deceived who trusted
In love or friend,
And hither came, with men disgusted,
My life to end.
In this lone cave, in garments lowly,
Alike a foe to noisy folly,
And brow-bent gloomy melancholy,
I wear away
My life, and in my office holy
Consume the day.
Alike a foe to noisy folly,
And brow-bent gloomy melancholy,
I wear away
My life, and in my office holy
Consume the day.
