Nor can the eternal roll of praise regret
Those unconforming; whom one vigorous day
Drives from their cares, a voluntary prey
To poverty and grief and disrespect,
And some to want—as if by tempest wrecked
On a wild coast; how destitute! did they
Feel not that conscience never can betray,
That peace of mind is virtue's sure effect,
Their altars they forego, their homes they quit,
Fields which they love, and paths they daily trod,
And cast the future upon Providence;
As men the dictate of whose inward sense
Outweighs the world; whom self-deceiving wit
Lures not from what they deem the curse of God.
