ODE rO CONSCIENCE 287
No wondrous works of hand or mind
Were thine ; God bade thee stand and wait,
A living proof to all thy kind
That a wise man may master fate.
Happy that life around whose close
The virtues all their rainbows cast, While wisdom and the soul's repose
Make age more blest than all the past !
��ODE TO CONSCIENCE.
Mysterious monitor, that in the crowd Art silent most while other tongues are loud, But in still seasons, when there's none to hear, At night, and in lone solitudes, art near. Startling the drowsy soul with speech severe ! O how shall he who fears thee from thee 'scape? How learn to shun thee, thou that hast no shape ? If he would fly, the whirlwind thou outridest ; If he would hide, in his own heart thou bidest. Who swiftest runs is soonest with thee met. Remembering most when most he would forget. If pleasure beckons, straightway thou intrudest — If business, thou on privacy dost press ; If sleep beguiles, then in a dream thou broodest. Most dreadful in most absolute emptiness. Knocking at no man's door, where thou wilt stay. There enterest thou, nor wilt be driven away.
Sometimes in midnight dark thou dost mount horse. Riding fierce nightmare with thy fiend. Remorse ;
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