"Ah! hapless state of human race! How quick do all their pleasures pass! And too, too weak their minds to bear Life's varied scenes of woe and care. When grief's sharp thorn the heart assails. Of wisdom's sons the purpose fails; Their boasted vigour soon gives way, Dark melancholy clouds their day; The helm no longer reason steers, But lawless passion domineers. Too sad a proof of this, alas! Ah, wretched mortal, is your case! Whilst undisgrac'd and unconfin'd, How firm and vigorous was your mind! Still ranging with unwearied view Creation's ample circuit thro'. The sun, refulgent source of day, You trac'd o'er all his radiant way; The moon that shines with borrowed light, And cheers with radiance mild the night, The silver moon's mysterious round Was by your magic numbers bound; The planets too that wand'ring go. And seem no settled course to know, Their periods, various and perplex'd, Were, by your art victorious, fix'd; Your tow'ring genius could resolve, What makes the heaven's vast frame revolve, Whilst all the lights that gild the skies, In order, daily set and rise; You too could tell, where nature forms Her mighty magazines of storms, Which with impetuous fury roll, And shake the earth from pole to pole; Why Spring awakes the genial hours, And decks th' enamell'd field with flow'rs, You knew;—and why kind Autumn's hand Diffuses plenty o'er the land: Thro' all her mazes you pursued Coy Nature, and her secrets viewed. But ah! sad change! that soaring mind Is now disconsolate and blind; To earth-born cares a wretched prey. And all the man is sunk away. Relentless fate has fix'd those eyes To earth, that whilom pierc'd the skies."