Sometimes Virtue Starves While Vice Is Fed.

What Nature Wants, Commodious Gold Bestows; 'tis Thus We Cut The Bread Another Sows.

In Vain Sedate Reflections We Would Make When Half Our Knowledge We Must Snatch, Not Take.

Order Is Heaven's First Law; And This Confess, Some Are And Must Be Greater Than The Rest.

But See, Orion Sheds Unwholesome Dews; Arise, The Pines A Noxious Shade Diffuse; Sharp Boreas Blows, And Nature Feels Decay, Time Conquers All, And We Must Time Obey.

Lo! The Poor Indian, Whose Untutored Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind.