Its Visits, Like Those Of

The Best-concerted Schemes Men Lay For Fame, Die Fast Away: Only Themselves Die Faster. The Far-fam'd Sculptor, And The Laurell'd Bard, Those Bold Insurancers Of Deathless Fame, Supply Their Little Feeble Aids In Vain.

How Blunt Are All The Arrows Of Thy Quiver In Comparison With Those Of Guilt.

Affectation Is Certain Deformity; By Forming Themselves On Fantastic Models, The Young Begin With Being Ridiculous, And Often End In Being Vicious.

But If There Be An Hereafter,and That There Is, Conscience, Uninfluenc'dand Suffer'd To Speak Out, Tells Every Man,then Must It Be An Awful Thing To Die;more Horrid Yet To Die By One's Own Hand.

How Shocking Must Thy Summons Be, O Death, To Him That Is At Ease In His Possessions! Who, Counting On Long Years Of Pleasure Here, Is Quite Unfurnished For The World To Come.