XXVI.
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ut midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,And roam along, the World's tired denizen,With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;Minions of Splendour shrinking from distress![130]None that, with kindred consciousness endued,If we were not, would seem to smile the less,Of all that flattered--followed--sought, and sued:This is to be alone--This, This is Solitude![eq] XXVII.[131] More blest the life of godly Eremite,Such as on lonely Athos may be seen,Watching at eve upon the Giant Height,Which looks o'er waves so blue, skies so serene,That he who there at such an hour hath beenWill wistful linger on that hallowed spot;Then slowly tear him from the 'witching scene,Sigh forth one wish that such had been his lot,Then turn to hate a world he had almost forgot.
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