Page:Orion, an epic poem - Horne (1843, 3rd edition).djvu/72

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Orion.
[Book II.
In all their bitter littleness and strife;
Their noble efforts, suffering, martyrdom.
He conquers not who flies, except he bear
Conquest within; nor flies he who believes
The object of his passion he can grasp,
Save for design to consummate the end.

"Oh, raging forest, do I seek once more
Your solitude for my secure abode?"
Orion cried, with wild arms cast abroad,
Fronting a tree whose branches lashed the air,
While its leaves showered around;—"And shall I not
In your direct communion with the earth
And heavens, find sympathy with this branched frame
I bear, thus shaken; yet unlike your storm
Which may be wholesome, coming from without,
And from the operative round of things,
While mine is centred in myself, and rends
But does not remedy. Let me then shun
The baleful haunts of men—worse than the beasts
Whom I have exiled, and to shadows changed—
Savage as beasts with less of open force;
As wily, with less skill and promptitude;
As little reasoning, save for selfish ends;