Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?
Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise?
Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; Bliss is the same in subject or in king.
Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare; And beauty draws us with a single hair.
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
I begin where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures.