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He paused, as if unwilling to proceed,
Through consciousness that silence in such place
Was best,—the most affecting eloquence.
But soon his thoughts returned upon themselves,
And, in soft tone of speech, he thus resumed.
"Ah! if the heart, too confidently raised,
Perchance too lightly occupied, or lulled
Too easily, despise or overlook
The vassalage that binds her to the earth,
Her sad dependance upon time, and all
The trepidations of mortality,
What place so destitute and void—but there
The little Flower her vanity shall check;
The trailing Worm reprove her thoughtless pride?
These craggy regions, these chaotic wilds,
Does that benignity pervade, that warms
The Mole contented with her darksome walk
In the cold ground; and to the Emmet gives
Her foresight; and the intelligence that makes
The tiny Creatures strong by social league;
