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22.

October, 1803.

When, looking on the present face of things,I see one Man, of Meu the meanest too!Rais'd up to sway the World, to do, undo,With mighty Nations for his Underlings,The great events with which old story ringsScem vain and hollow; I find nothing great;Nothing is left which I can venerate;So that almost a doubt within me springsOf Providence, such emptiness at lengthSeems at the heart of all things. But, great God!I measure back the steps which I have trod,And tremble, seeing, as I do, the strengthOf such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublimeI tremble at the sorrow of the time.
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