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Unseconded, uncountenanc'd; then, as time
Passed on, while still his lonely efforts found
No recompence, derided; and, at length,
By many pitied, as insane of mind;
By others dreaded as the luckless Thrall
Of subterraneous Spirits, feeding hope
By various mockery of sight and sound;
Hope, after hope, encouraged and destroyed.
—But when the Lord of seasons had matured
The fruits of earth through space of twice ten years,
The mountain's entrails offered to the view
Of the Old Man, and to his trembling grasp,
His bright, his long-deferred, his dear reward.
Not with more transport did Columbus greet
A world, his rich discovery! But our Swain,
A very Hero till his point was gained,
Proved all unable to support the weight
Of prosperous fortune. On the fields he looked
With an unsettled liberty of thought,
Of schemes and wishes; in the day-light walked
Giddy and restless; ever and anon
Quaffed in his gratitude immoderate cups;
And truly might be said to die of joy!
