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The Lord of the Castle of Indolence.
The world, he said, indeed is very good,
Its Maker surely wiser far than we;
Feed soul and flesh upon its bounteous food,
Nor fret because of ill; All-good is He,
And worketh not in years but in Eternity.
V.
Which yet must sweep them down in its career!
Or if some win their way and crown their pride,
What do they win? the desert wild and drear,
The savage rocks, the icy wastes austere,
Wherefrom the river's turbid rills downflow:
But he upon the waters broad and clear,
In harmony with all the winds that blow,
'Mid cities, fields and farms, went drifting to and fro.
VI.
The soldier faint and starve in marches long,
The sailor guide with sleepless care his helm,
The poet from sick languors soar in song:
