What Is Fame? A Fancied

We May See The Small Value God Has For Riches, By The People He Gives Them To.

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

Ask For What End The Heavenly Bodies Shine, Earth For Whose Use? Pride Answers, 'tis For Mine For Me Kind Nature Wakes Her Genial Power, Suckles Each Herb, And Spreads Out Every Flower.

Whether The Darken'd Room To Muse Invite, Or Whiten'd Wall Provoke The Skew'r To Write; In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, Or The Mint, Like Lee Or Budgel I Will Rhyme And Print.

Speed The Soft Intercourse From Soul To Soul, And Waft A Sigh From Indus To The Pole.