But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.
Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleas'd to the last he crops the flow'ry food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
Who shall decide when doctors disagree, And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?