No Senses stronger than his brain can bear. Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly: What the advantage, if his finer eyes Study a Mite, not comprehend the Skies?... Or quick Effluvia darting thro' his brain, Die of a Rose, in Aromatic pain? If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the Spheres... Who finds not Providence all-good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies?

Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!

The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read With loads of learned lumber in his head.

Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.

One science only will one genius fit; so vast is art, so narrow human wit.

Genius involves both envy and calumny.

Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.