Ah! Why, Ye Gods, Should

Envy Will Merit, As Its Shade, Pursue

And Little Eagles Wave Their Wings In Gold.

A Wit With Dunces, And A Dunce With Wits.

The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home, Rests And Expatiates In A Life To Come.

How Shall I Lose The Sin, Yet Keep The Sense, And Love The Offender, Yet Detest The Offence?