This, dame fortune, let me crave,
Since I’m doomed to be thy slave; .mw-parser-output .nowrap,.mw-parser-output .nowrap a:before,.mw-parser-output .nowrap .selflink:before{white-space:nowrap}. . .
Sweet independence to enjoy,
And liberty that ne’er will cloy.
Give me ease, and give me health,
Give to others store of wealth;
Let fair competence be mine,
And hang me, if I e’er repine.
To some peaceful, happy scene,
Where I may live with joy serene;
Bear me from madness, and from folly,
From dulness, spleen, and melancholy.
Be mine some vicar’s ancient seat,
Snug, and warm, and fair, and neat;
A study with good books well stor’d,
A parlour for my homely board.
Where in elbow chair he dos’d,
And his pamper’d bulk repos’d,
Casting dull learning’s care aside,
With volumes of scholastic pride.
This grant me, fortune, and, if I,
To use thy blessings e’er deny,
Reject my vow, reject my prayer,
And let me feed with bards on air.
Man measures earth, the air he weighs,
The spacious sky above surveys,
The planetary sphere
Explores . . .views suns on suns advance,
And worlds on worlds through heaven's expanse
That roll in order there.
But how a single grass doth grow,
A cherry ripen, lily blow,
To him is quite unknown;
Yet full of pride. . . temerity!
Nature’s grand scheme he would descry,
So wondrous learned grown.
By laws his own, destroyeth worlds;
Or new ones into ether hurls;
Pervades with piercing eye
All things in heaven, in air, on earth
What cause gives each effect its birth,
Tho’ plann’d by the Most High.
But how his feet obey his will,
At his command, move or stand still,
He knows not, . . .yet would tell
(Such his presumptuous confidence)
The Almighty’s place of residence;
Where situated hell.
How God sees, acteth, and commands,
Past, present, future, understands;
Yet ah ! he doth not know,
Himself, how he the sense retains,
Of feeling pleasures, fears, or pains,
Or doth exist and grow.
Go, wondrous creature! to be good
First learn ; go give the hungry food,
And clothe the naked poor:
Go cherish worth, . . .true merit prize,
Thy country’s happiness devise;
These, these, are in thy power.
This done, . . .of nature’s secrets rare,
Take to the full thy allotted share:
But what was pre-designed,
Too vast for thee, by heaven’s high will,
Superior to all human skill,
Leave to the eternal mind.
To whom these countless worlds belong,
Who made all right, thou judgest wrong,
And over all presides;
Governs, directs the according whole,
Of beauty, order is the soul, . . .
All to perfection guides.