Till seeming blest, they grow to what they seem. 4285 Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land. The land of scholars and the nurse of arms. For just experience tells, in every soil, That those that think must govern those that toil.
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.
4291 Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centres in the mind. Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel. The Deserted Village. The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made. The Deserted Village.