Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.
Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
Ingenious to their ruin, every age improves the art and instruments of rage.
Thrice happy is that humble pair, Beneath the level of all care! Over whose heads those arrows fly, Of sad distrust and jealousy.
All things but one you can restore; the heart you get returns no more.
Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.