Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!

Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.

But thousands die without or this or that, Die, and endow a college or a cat.

Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.

But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.

All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace.

While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!" "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose.