For mysterious things of faith, rely on the proponent, Heaven's authority.
How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
And plenty makes us poor.
The winds are out of breath.
He who would search for pearls must dive below.
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?