The Blest To-day Is As Completely So,

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.

Know Then, Unnumber'd Spirits Round Thee Fly, The Light Militia Of The Lower Sky.

Whate'er The Passion, Knowledge, Fame, Or Pelf, Not One Will Change His Neighbor With Himself.

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Who Sees With Equal Eye, As God Of All, A Hero Perish Or A Sparrow Fall, Atoms Or Systems Into Ruin Hurl'd, And Now A Bubble Burst, And Now A World.