Gay Hope Is Theirs By

To Each His Suff'rings; All Are Men, Condemn'd Alike To Groan,- The Tender For Another's Pain, Th' Unfeeling For His Own. Yet Ah! Why Should They Know Their Fate, Since Sorrow Never Comes Too Late, And Happiness Too Swiftly Flies? Thought Would Destroy Their Paradise. No More; Where Ignorance Is Bliss, 't Is Folly To Be Wise.

Beyond The Limits Of A Vulgar Fate, Beneath The Good How Far,-but Far Above The Great.

If The Best Man's Faults Were Written On His Forehead, He Would Draw His Hat Over His Eyes.

The Boast Of Heraldry, The Pomp Of Pow'r, And All That Beauty, All That Wealth E'er Gave, Awaits Alike Th' Inevitable Hour. The Paths Of Glory Lead But To The Grave.

How Low, How Little Are The Proud, How Indigent The Great!