Edward Young, Night Thoughts, Night Ninth, The Consolation:
As when a traveller, a long day past
In painful search of what he cannot find,
At night’s approach, content with the next cot,
There ruminates, a while, his labour lost;
Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords,
And chants his sonnet to deceive the time,
Till the due season calls him to repose:
Thus I, long-travell’d in the ways of men,
And dancing, with the rest, the giddy maze,
Where Disappointment smiles at Hope’s career; 10
Warn’d by the languor of life’s evening ray,
At length have housed me in an humble shed;
Where, future wandering banish’d from my thought,
And waiting, patient, the sweet hour of rest,
I chase the moments with a serious song.
Song soothes our pains; and age has pains to soothe.
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