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5

PROLOGUE.

They who would lift the heavy tragic pall
Upon the groaning shoulders of their Muse
Have ever warned the light and easy-soul'd,
Who shun the joyless truth in human things,
To fly her pitiful, dread company,
And seek some sister with leaf-knotted lyre,
And garments gaily dancing in the wind.
So be they warned; for on the sheer descent
And downward of this father's destiny
Is scarce a ledge for Hope the climber's foot
To cling to, trembling at the chasm hoar.
Who, peering, pass that brink are travellers
To a mid-gulf of misery from whence
There is no looking back: when parents err
Nothing avails; there is no comforter.