chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.

What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath. A thing beyond us, even before our death.

No louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or lap-dogs breathe their last.

To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.

The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.

For forms of faith let graceless zealots fight; his can't be wrong whose life is in the right.

Hope springs eternal.