Men Will Believe Anything At

To Contemplation's Sober Eye. / Such Is The Race Of Man.

Thought Would Destroy Their Paradise.

Her Track, Where'er The Goddess Roves, Glory Pursue, And Gen'rous Shame, Th' Unconquerable Mind, And Freedom's Holy Flame.

Hands That The Rod Of Empire Might Have Sway'd, Or Waked To Ecstasy The Living Lyre.

Gay Hope Is Theirs By Fancy Fed, Less Pleasing When Possest; The Tear Forgot As Soon As Shed, The Sunshine Of The Breast.