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"Who feed on crimes and fatten on distress, And wring vile mirth from suffering's last excess." Ah! excellent order of the world, which it is so wicked to disturb!
"Her lot is on you! silent tears to weep, And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, And sumless riches from affection's deep To pour on" something "a wasted shower!" Yes, wasted, indeed! I hadn't answered a word to his question. "It seems warm in this room," said he again, languidly; "shall we walk on the piazza?" "I think not," I answered, curtly; "I am not warm."
It became the time for the judge to attend one of those periodical visitations so fraught with dread and dismay to the miserable inmates of the dark abodes which the complex laws of this country so bounteously supply, those times of great hilarity and eating to the legal gentry, "Who feed on crimes and fatten on distress, And wring vile mirth from suffering's last excess."
For it is like the blazing sun that sinks in ocean's bed, And yet, with ardor all unquenched, next morning rears its head. Thus from the sea my suffering's flame has driven me once more, And here I land, without a hope, upon this arid shore." And now, like furies, from the east the gale began to blow, And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below.
Nobody can expect to be a real poet, I think, as hasn't suffered or grieved over summat or some one! So cheer up; suffering's bound to come t' ye soon or late; 'tis only to be expected in this world. Meanwhile how are ye going to live?" "I haven't thought of it yet." "Hum! Any money?" "Only eighteen guineas." "Why, 'tis a tidy sum!
Punishment was therefore believed to be administered judicially, according to the extent of the offense, that the sinner might be made to suffer purely for suffering's sake, measure for measure. I long ago abandoned this doctrine.
Here, no sharp grief the high emotion knows Here, suffering's self is made divine, and shows The brave resolve of the firm soul alone: Here, lovely as the rainbow on the dew Of the spent thunder-cloud, to art is given, Gleaming through grief's dark veil, the peaceful blue Of the sweet moral heaven.
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