No More Was Seen The Human Form

Who Dare To Love Their Country, And Be Poor.

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

But See, The Shepherds Shun The Noonday Heat, The Lowing Herds To Murmuring Brooks Retreat, To Closer Shades The Panting Flocks Remove; Ye Gods! And Is There No Relief For Love?

Tis Strange The Miser Should His Cares Employto Gain Those Riches He Can Ne'er Enjoy;is It Less Strange The Prodigal Should Wastehis Wealth To Purchase What He Ne'er Can Taste?

Some Praise At Morning What They Blame At Night, But Always Think The Last Opinion Right.