Far From The Madding Crowd's Ignoble Strife.

And Hie Him Home, At Evening's Close, To Sweet Repast And Calm Repose.

To Contemplation's Sober Eye. / Such Is The Race Of Man.

Daughter Of Jove, Relentless Power, Thou Tamer Of The Human Breast, Whose Iron Scourge And Tort'ring Hour The Bad Affright, Afflict The Best!

Now As The Paradisiacal Pleasures Of The Mahometans Consist In Playing Upon The Flute And Lying With Houris, Be Mine To Read Eternal New Romances Of Marivaux And Crebillon.

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