I Paint The Cot, As Truth Will

Oh! 'tis A Precious Thing, When Wives Are Dead, To Find Such Numbers Who Will Serve Instead: And In Whatever State A Man Be Thrown, 'tis That Precisely They Would Wish Their Own.

Let's Learn To Live, For We Must Die Alone.

With Eye Upraised His Master's Look To Scan, The Joy, The Solace, And The Aid Of Man: The Rich Man's Guardian And The Poor Man's Friend, The Only Creature Faithful To The End.

Against Her Foes Religion Well Defends Her Sacred Truths, But Often Fears Her Friends.

Oh How The Passions, Insolent And Strong, Bear Our Weak Minds Their Rapid Course Along; Make Us The Madness Of Their Will Obey; Then Die And Leave Us To Our Griefs As Prey!