Why all this toil the

triumphs of an hour ? Life's a short

summer — man a flower ; By turns we

catch the vital breath and die— The

cradle and the tomb, alas ! too nigh. To

be is better far than not to be, Though

all man's life may seem a tragedy, But

light cares speak when mighty griefs are

dumb, The bottom is but shallow whence

they come. Your fate is but the common

fate of all ; TJnmingled joys here to no

man befal. Nature to each allots his

proper sphere. Fortune makes folly her

peculiar care. Custom does often reason

overrule. A cruel sunshine on a fool.

Live well — how long or short permit to

heaven ; Those who forgive the most

shall be most forgiven. She may be

clasped so close you cannot see its face

— Tile intercourse where virtue has no

place. Then keep each passion down,

however dear, Thou pendulum betwixt a

smile and tear ; Her sensual snares let

faithless pleasures lay, With craft and

skill— to ruin and betray, Soar not too

high to fall, but stoop to rise — We

masters grow of all that we despise. Oh,

then, remove that impious self-esteem,

Bicb.es have wings, and grandeur is a

dream. Think not ambition wise because

'tis brave ; The paths ef glory lead but

to the grave. What is ambition P 'Tis a

glorious cheat, Only destruction on the

brave and great. What's all the gaudy

glitter of a crown P The .way to bliss

lies not on beds of down. How long we

live, not years, bat actions tell ; The

man lives twice that lives the first

life well. Make then, while yet ye may,

your God your friend, Whom Christians

worship, yet none comprehend. The trust

that's given guard, and to yourself be

just, For live how we can, yet die we

must.