Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,- His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.

Who shall decide when doctors disagree, And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?

Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, The learn'd reflect on what before they knew.

In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fixed, 'tis fixed as in a frost.