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I have sought high, I have sought low, Alike my search has been in vain; The same lip mix'd the smile and sigh, The same hour mingled joy and pain. And first I sought mid sceptred kings; Power was, so peace might be with them: They cast a look of weariness Upon the care-lined diadem. I ask'd the soldier; and he spoke Of a dear quiet home afar, And whisper'd of the vanity, The ruin, and the wrong of war. I saw the merchant mid his wealth; Peace surely would with plenty be: But no! his thoughts were all abroad With their frail ventures on the sea.