Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.
No craving void left aching in the soul.
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?
Thus God and nature linked the gen'ral frame, And bade self-love and social be the same.
He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers; hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.