And Truth Severe, By Fairy Fiction Drest.

The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow, Chastis'd By Sabler Tints Of Woe.

Man's Feeble Race What Ills Await! Labour, And Penury, The Racks Of Pain, Disease, And Sorrow's Weeping Train, And Death, Sad Refuge From The Storms Of Fate!

Along The Cool Sequestered Vale Of Life, They Kept The Noiseless Tenour Of Their Way.

No Further Seek His Merits To Disclose, Or Draw His Frailties From Their Dread Abode (there They Alike In Trembling Hope Repose), The Bosom Of His Father And His God.

Hands That The Rod Of Empire Might Have Sway'd, Or Waked To Ecstasy The Living Lyre.