His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.
Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so; 'tis but what we in our autumn do.
Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!
Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.
The fear of Hell, or aiming to be blest, Savors too much of private interest. This moved not Moses, nor the zealous Paul, Who for their friends abandoned soul and all.