Scatter Plenty O'er A Smiling Land.

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!

Any Fool May Write A Most Valuable Book By Chance, If He Will Only Tell Us What He Heard And Saw With Veracity.

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

Fair Laughs The Morn, And Soft The Zephyr Blows, While Proudly Rising O'er The Azure Realm In Gallant Trim The Gilded Vessel Goes, Youth On The Prow, And Pleasure At The Helm.

Some Bold Adventurers Disdain The Limits Of Their Little Reign, And Unknown Regions Date Descry.