Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. He loved, he trusted in that happy prime. 0 Ah, little recked he safe from doubts and fears, The sad monotony of coming years, Trouble on trouble, pain succeeding pain Tortures that racked his ever-teeming brain. Long had he wandered without goal or aim 15 Through the dull round of centuries still the same, Ruling this puny world, and sowing ill.