But If You'll Prosper, Mark What I

Art Still Followed Where Rome's Eagles Flew.

No Louder Shrieks To Pitying Heaven Are Cast, When Husbands Or Lap-dogs Breathe Their Last.

In Adamantine Chains Shall Death Be Bound, And Hell's Grim Tyrant Feel Th' Eternal Wound.

And Soften'd Sounds Along The Waters Die: Smooth Flow The Waves, The Zephyrs Gently Play.

All Nature Is But Art Unknown To Thee.