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Crusading for mankind—a spaniel race
That lick the hand that beats them, or tear all
Alike in frenzy—to your Household Gods
Return, for by their altars Virtue dwells
And Happiness with her; for by their fires
Tranquillity in no unsocial mood
Sits silent, listening to the pattering shower;
For, so [1]Suspicion sleep not at the gate
Of Wisdom,—Falsehood shall not enter there.
As on the height of some huge eminence
Reach'd with long labour, the way-faring man
Pauses awhile, and gazing o'er the plain
With many a sore step travelled, turns him then
Serious to contemplate the onward road,
And calls to mind the comforts of his home,
And sighs that he has left them, and resolves
That lick the hand that beats them, or tear all
Alike in frenzy—to your Household Gods
Return, for by their altars Virtue dwells
And Happiness with her; for by their fires
Tranquillity in no unsocial mood
Sits silent, listening to the pattering shower;
For, so [1]Suspicion sleep not at the gate
Of Wisdom,—Falsehood shall not enter there.
As on the height of some huge eminence
Reach'd with long labour, the way-faring man
Pauses awhile, and gazing o'er the plain
With many a sore step travelled, turns him then
Serious to contemplate the onward road,
And calls to mind the comforts of his home,
And sighs that he has left them, and resolves
- ↑ Oft, tho' Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps
At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity
Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no ill
Where no ill seems.
Milton.
