All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not

O Happiness! Our Being's End And Aim! Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content! Whate'er Thy Name: That Something Still Which Prompts The Eternal Sigh, For Which We Bear To Live, Or Dare To Die.

And All Who Told It Added Something New, And All Who Heard It, Made Enlargements Too.

Sometimes Virtue Starves While Vice Is Fed.

Is It, In Heav'n, A Crime To Love Too Well? To Bear Too Tender Or Too Firm A Heart, To Act A Lover's Or A Roman's Part? Is There No Bright Reversion In The Sky For Those Who Greatly Think, Or Bravely Die?

Who Builds A Church To God And Not To Fame, Will Never Mark The Marble With His Name.