...lest Too Light Winning Make The Prize

Yet This My Comfort: When Your Words Are Done, My Woes End Likewise With The Evening Sun.

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book!

Each Present Joy Or Sorrow Seems The Chief.

I Speak Of Peace, While Covert Enmity Under The Smile Of Safety Wounds The World