And Seem To Walk On Wings, And

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

But See, The Shepherds Shun The Noonday Heat, The Lowing Herds To Murmuring Brooks Retreat, To Closer Shades The Panting Flocks Remove; Ye Gods! And Is There No Relief For Love?

Court-virtues Bear, Like Gems, The Highest Rate, Born Where Heav'n Influence Scarce Can Penetrate. In Life's Low Vale, The Soil The Virtues Like, They Please As Beauties, Here As Wonders Strike.

True Ease In Writing Comes From Art, Not Chance, As Those Move Easiest Who Have Learned To Dance.

Virtue May Choose The High Or Low Degree, 'tis Just Alike To Virtue, And To Me; Dwell In A Monk, Or Light Upon A King, She's Still The Same Belov'd, Contented Thing.