Page:Poems and extracts - Wordsworth.djvu/110

 He sees that let deceit do what it can, Plot and contrive base ways to high desires; That the all-guiding Providence doth yet All disappoint, and mocks this smoke of wit. Nor is he moved with all the thunder-cracks Of tyrants threats, or with the surly brow Of power, that proudly sits on others crimes; Charged with more crying sins than those he checks. The storms of sad confusion that may grow Up in the present for the coming times, Appal not him, that hath no side at all, But of himself and knows the worst can fall. Although his heart (so near ally'd to earth) Cannot but pity the perplexed state Of troublous and distressed mortality. That thus make way unto the ugly birth Of their own sorrows, and do still beget Affliction upon imbecillity: Rh