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Rh

To be in toils and perils, nay in sufferings, With th' applauding sympathy of men Upon his side, is to the noble mind A state of happiness beyond the bliss Of calm inglorious ease.

O no, good Othus! thou misjudgest of me. I would, God knows, in a poor woodman's hut Have spent my peaceful days, and shar'd my crust With her who would have cheer'd me, rather far Than on this throne; but, being what I am, I'll be it nobly.

Yes, thou wilt be it nobly, spirit as brave As e'er wore Cæsar's name!

Yes, there is cause for me; there is good cause. But for those valiant men, link'd in my fate, Who have in other lands their peaceful homes And dear domestic ties, on whom no claim Lays its strong hold—alas! what cause have they? What is their recompense? Fame is not mine; And unto themO this doth press my heart! A heart surcharg'd with many cares, and press'd With that besides, which more than all—with that Which I have wrestled with—which I have strove—