Excerpt from The Poetical Works of John Mitchell
Proem.
Since many a pilgrim up Parnassus plods
His way, to reach its airy peak, and fails -
Perhaps, because of wanting power innate,
A requisite that cannot be acquired -
Far up the dizzy height I dare not climb;
Lest haply I should fall, and if unscathed,
Must needs, till spent, a hopeless life endure
In truceless discontent, and with the rest,
The pity of the wise, and scoff of fools.
Nor would I envy him who finds his name
Within the Temple, on the roll of fame,
If at the cost of social earthly joys,
Continuous toil, and hope deferred until
The world's applause, that wakes him from his dream
Shall be the prelude of his parting years.
Far better would it be, through life to toil,
And hazard brave, to reach the prize and fail,
Than live a life of sensuality,
And like a pampered brute forgotten die.
Aye, though his aim be crossed, and labor lost,
And he depart unpitied and unsung,
Still nobly shall he have his duty done.
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