University of Virginia Library

IX.

Fame-hunting stranger, thou hast stray'd
Far from the path which leads to joy;
By error's glare thou wast betray'd,
It sought thy peace still to destroy.

58

I wrench'd thee from the grasp of death,
While pendant hung the fatal blow;
And, ere the prowler stop thy breath,
The way to happiness thee show.
My mansion's postern enter then,
Where thou shalt see things hid before;
Foolish they seem to heedless men,
Who only short-lived joys adore.
Few, few are favour'd with the view,
Although presented unto all!
This riddle's not more strange than true—
Be pleased to walk into the hall.