It Is Not I Who Die, When

Pleasures, Riches, Honor And Joy Are Sure To Have Care, Disgrace, Adversity And Affliction In Their Train. There Is No Pleasure Without Pain, No Joy Without Sorrow. O The Folly Of Expecting Lasting Felicity In A Vale Of Tears, Or A Paradise In A Ruined World.

But How Many Moments Are Already Past! Ah! Who Thinks Of Those That Are Past?

Absolute Truth Belongs To Thee Alone.

Would That We Could At Once Paint With The Eyes! In The Long Way From The Eye Through The Arm To The Pencil, How Much Is Lost!

With A Clear Sky, A Bright Sun, And A Gentle Breeze, You Will Have Friends In Plenty; But Let Fortune Frown, And The Firmament Be Overcast, And Then Your Friends Will Prove Like The Strings Of The Lute, Of Which You Will Tighten Ten Before You Find One That Will Bear The Stretch And Keep The Pitch.