Happy The Man Who Sees A God

Some Write A Narrative Of Wars And Feats, Of Heroes Little Known, And Call The Rant A History.

The Slaves Of Custom And Established Mode, With Pack-horse Constancy We Keep The Road Crooked Or Straight, Through Quags Or Thorny Dells, True To The Jingling Of Our Leader's Bells.

Where Penury Is Felt The Thought Is Chain'd, And Sweet Colloquial Pleasures Are But Few.

Oh To Have A Lodge In Some Vast Wilderness. Where Rumors Of Oppression And Deceit, Of Unsuccessful And Successful Wars May Never Reach Me Anymore.

Just Knows, And Knows No More, Her Bible True,- A Truth The Brilliant Frenchman Never Knew.