But Just Disease To Luxury

What Conscience Dictates To Be Done, Or Warns Me Not To Do; This Teach Me More Than Hell To Shun, That More Than Heav'n Pursue.

Oh, Sons Of Earth! Attempt Ye Still To Rise. By Mountains Pil'd On Mountains To The Skies? Heav'n Still With Laughter The Vain Toil Surveys, And Buries Madmen In The Heaps They Raise.

From Nature's Chain Whatever Link You Strike, Tenth Or Ten Thousandth, Breaks The Chain Alike.

Lend, Lend Your Wings! I Mount! I Fly! O Grave! Where Is Thy Victory? O Death! Where Is Thy Sting?

Tis All In Vain To Keep A Constant Pother About One Vice And Fall Into Another.