Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
A fav'rite has no friend!
When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
Thought would destroy their paradise.
Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.