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On nearer view, a motley spectacle
Appeared, of high pretensions—unreproved
But by the obstreperous voice of higher still;
Big Passions strutting on a petty stage;
Which a detached Spectator may regard
Not unamused.—But ridicule demands
Quick change of objects; and, to laugh alone,
In woods and wilds, or any lonely place,
At a composing distance from the haunts
Of strife and folly,—though it be a treat
As choice as musing Leisure can bestow;
Yet, in the very centre of the crowd
To keep the secret of a poignant scorn,
May suit an airy Demon; but, of all
Unsocial courses, 'tis the one least fit
For the gross spirit of Mankind,—the one
That soonest fails to please, and quickliest turns
Into vexation.—Let us, then, I said,
Leave this unknit Republic to the scourge
Of its own passions; and to Regions haste,
Whose shades have never felt the encroaching axe,
Or soil endured a transfer in the mart
Of dire rapacity. There, Man abides,
