Page:Repository of Arts, Series 1, Volume 01, 1809, January-June.djvu/327

Rh

Who’d wish to travel life’s dull round,
 * Unmove’d by pain or pleasure?

’Tis reason’s task to set the bound,
 * And keep them both in measure.

The stoic, who with false pretence
 * Each soft emotion stifles,

Thinks want of feeling proves his sense, :
 * Yet frets and fumes at trifles;

And he who vainly boasts the heart
 * Touch’d by each tale of woe,

Forbears to act the friendly part,
 * That tender heart to shew.

Th’ unfeeling heart can never know,
 * By cold indifference guarded,

The joy, the transport, which will flow
 * From love and truth rewarded.

True sensibility we find
 * Shares in another’s grief,

And pity yields the generous mind
 * From sympathy relief.

Yet there are ills the feeling heart
 * Can never, never bear

Unable to support the smart,
 * ’Tis driven to despair.

The point discuss’d, we find this rule,
 * A rule both true and sad,

Who feels too little is a fool,
 * Who feels too much is mad.

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ELEGIAC STANZAS, Written after the Battle of , Inscribed to the Memory of the late Lieut-General