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She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none read more
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.
Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just,
Stoop'd down serene and wrote them on the dust,
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Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just,
Stoop'd down serene and wrote them on the dust,
Trod under foot, the sport of every wind,
Swept from the earth and blotted from his mind,
There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie,
And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty eye.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
He who has lived obscurely and quietly has lived well.
[Lat., Bene qui latuit, bene vixit.]
He who has lived obscurely and quietly has lived well.
[Lat., Bene qui latuit, bene vixit.]
I give the fight up; let there be an end,
A privacy, an obscure nook for me,
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I give the fight up; let there be an end,
A privacy, an obscure nook for me,
I want to be forgotten even by God.
Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.
Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.
It is better to be famous than notorious, but better to be notorious than obscure.
It is better to be famous than notorious, but better to be notorious than obscure.
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails and impious men bear away,
The post of read more
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails and impious men bear away,
The post of honor is a private station.
