The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

Wouldst thou be famed? have those high acts in view, Brave men would act though scandal would ensue.

Think naught a trifle, though it small appear; Small stands the mountain, moments make the year, and trifles life.

But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.

The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.

When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees

Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!