The Lot Of Man -

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor For Her Favors Call; She Comes Unlooked For, If She Comes At All .

At Present We Can Only Reason Of The Divine Justice From What We Know Of Justice In Man. When We Are In Other Scenes, We May Have Truer And Nobler Ideas Of It; But While We Are In This Life, We Can Only Speak From The Volume That Is Laid Open Before Us.

Hope Springs Eternal In The Human Breast; Man Never Is, But Always To Be Blest. The Soul, Uneasy, And Confin'd From Home, Rest And Expatiates In A Life To Come. Lo, The Poor Indian! Whose Untutor'd Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind; His Soul Proud Science Never Taught To Stray Far As The Solar Walk Or Milky Way; Yet Simple Nature To His Hope Has Giv'n, Behind The Cloud-topp'd Hill, An Humbler Heav'n.

But Just Disease To Luxury Succeeds, And Ev'ry Death Its Own Avenger Breeds.

Calm, Thinking Villains, Whom No Faith Could Fix, Of Crooked Counsels And Dark Politics.