Thought Would Destroy Their Paradise.

Where Ignorance Is Bliss, 'tis Folly To Be Wise.

Nor Grandeur Hear With A Disdainful Smile The Short And Simple Annals Of The Poor.

In Buskined Measures Move Pale Grief And Pleasing Pain, With Horror, Tyrant Of The Throbbing Breast.

Her Track, Where'er The Goddess Roves, Glory Pursue, And Gen'rous Shame, Th' Unconquerable Mind, And Freedom's Holy Flame.

Gay Hope Is Theirs By Fancy Fed, Less Pleasing When Possest; The Tear Forgot As Soon As Shed, The Sunshine Of The Breast.