Cxxvii

Awaking so, What if we, homeward-bound, all peace and some fatigue, Trudge, soberly complete our tramp of near a league, Last little mile which makes the circuit just, Elvire? We end where we began: that consequence is clear. All peace and some fatigue, wherever we were nursed To life, we bosom us on death, find last is first And thenceforth final too.