That tell around us, in the wondrous scale
Of high perfection which they all detail;
The order which they follow in the laws,
That bind and keep them, and that show their cause,
The ends of love and pity in their frame:
These their Creator's goodness all proclaim.
Be this thy learning, this thy glory's view;
If virtuous, thou art wise and happy too.
Virtue and truth are one, and in them bound
Alone may ever happiness be found.
And they can only, with a conscience pure,
Give to thy soul to enjoy it, peace secure;
True liberty in moderate desires,
And joy in all to do thy work requires;
To do well in content, and calmly free:
All else is wind and misery, vanity.
TO GALATEA'S BIRD.[1]
O silly little bird! who now
On Galatea's lap hast got,
My unrequited love allow
To envy thee thy lot.
- ↑ From the same, p. 369.
