Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.
The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; superior wisdom is superior bliss.
Revere thyself, and yet thyself despise
And all may do what has by man been done.
To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.
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.