nce, sage and sound:
say, man's true, geimate,
the grand criterion of his fate,
is not,—arth thou high or low?
did thy fortune ebb or flow?
did many talents gild thy span?
al nature grudge thee one?
tell them, and press it on their mind,
as thou thyself must shortly find,
the smile or frown of awful heav'n,
to virtue or to vice is giv'n,
say, to be just, and kind, and wise—
there solid self-enjoyment lies;
that foolish, selfish, faithless ways
lead to be wretched, vile, and base.
thus resign'd and quiet, creep
to the bed o
Written In Friars-Carse Hermitage(3/4)