Wholesome Solitude, The Nurse Of Sense!

The Blest To-day Is As Completely So, As Who Began A Thousand Years Ago.

To Him No High, No Low, No Great, No Small; He Fills, He Bounds, Connects And Equals All!

Bear, Like The Turk, No Brother Near The Throne.

Pleased To The Last, He Crops The Flowery Food, And Licks The Hand Just Raised To Shed His Blood.

Fortune In Men Has Some Small Diff'rence Made, One Flaunts In Rags, One Flutters In Brocade, The Cobbler Apron'd, And The Parson Gown'd, The Friar Hooded, And The Monarch Crown'd.