In camps about the centre I appear; 
In smiling meadows seen throughout the year; 
The silent angler views me in the streams, 
And love-sick maidens in their morning dreams; 
First in each mob conspicuous I stand, 
Proud of the lead, and double in command; 
Without my power no mercy can be shown, 
Or soft compassion to their hearts be known; 
Each sees me in himself, yet all agree 
Their hearts and persons have no charms for me; 
The chymist proves my virtue upon ore, 
For touch'd by me, he changes it to more.