Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour The bad affright, afflict the best!

To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.

A fav'rite has no friend!

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,-but far above the great.

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

We frolic while 'tis May.