All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not

Of Fight Or Fly, This Choice Is Left Ye, To Resist Or Die.

The Difference Is As Great Between The Optics Seeing As The Objects Seen. All Manners Take A Tincture From Our Own; Or Come Discolor'd Through Out Passions Shown; Or Fancy's Beam Enlarges, Multiplies, Contracts, Inverts, And Gives Ten Thousand Dyes.

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

One Science Only Will One Genius Fit; So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

And Bear About The Mockery Of Woe To Midnight Dances And The Public Show.