Joy is the sweet voice, joy the luminous cloud. We in ourselves rejoice! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, All melodies the echoes of that voice, All colours a suffusion from that light.
It sounds like stories from the laud of spirits If any man obtains that which he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains. . . . . . . . . . Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man? Three treasures,love and light, And calm thoughts, regular as infants breath; And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
Complaint. Ed. 1852. The Good Great Man. Ed. 1893.