Now comes the pain of truth, to whom 'tis pain;O folly! for to bear all naked truths,And to envisage circumstance, all calm,That is the top of sovereignty Mark well. Hyperion: A Fragment (1819)
Deep in the shady sadness of a valeFar sunken from the healthy breath of morn,Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,Still as the silence round about his lair;Forest on forest hung about his headLike cloud on cloud. Hyperion: A Fragment (1819)