He is by nature led To peace so perfect that the young behold With envy, what the old man hardly feels. - William Wordsworth

Is then no nook of English ground secure
From rash assault?

..........books are yours,
Within whose silent chambers treasure lies
Preserved from age to age; more precious far
Than that accumulated store of gold
And orient gems, which, for a day of need,
The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs.
These hoards of truth you can unlock at will:

Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.