That Power Which Erring Men Call Chance.

And So Sepúlchred In Such Pomp Dost Lie, That Kings For Such A Tomb Would Wish To Die.

Retiring From The Popular Noise, I Seek This Unfrequented Place To Find Some Ease.

Sport, That Wrinkled Care Derides, And Laughter Holding Both His Sides. Come And Trip It As Ye Go, On The Light Fantastic Toe.

How Charming Is Divine Philosophy! Not Harsh And Crabbed, As Dull Fools Suppose, But Musical As Is Apollo's Lute, And A Perpetual Feast Of Nectar'd Sweets Where No Crude Surfeit Reigns

In Those Vernal Seasons Of The Year When The Air Is Calm And Pleasant, It Were An Injury And Sullenness Against Nature Not To Go Out And See Her Riches, And Partake In Her Rejoicing With Heaven And Earth.