Bear, Like The Turk, No Brother Near

Good Sense, Which Only Is The Gift Of Heaven, And Though No Science, Fairly Worth The Seven.

In The Nice Bee, What Sense So Subtly True From Pois'nous Herbs Extracts The Healing Dew?

Not To Go Back Is Somewhat To Advance, And Men Must Walk, At Least, Before They Dance.

Thus Let Me Live, Unseen, Unknown, Thus Unlamented Let Me Die, Steal From The World, And Not A Stone Tell Where I Lie.

Silence! Coeval With Eternity! Thou Wert Ere Nature's Self Began To Be; Thine Was The Sway Ere Heaven Was Formed On Earth, Ere Fruitful Thought Conceived Creation's Birth.