I Lisp'd In Numbers, For

Such Labour'd Nothings, In So Strange A Style, Amaze Th' Unlearn'd And Make The Learned Smile.

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor For Her Favors Call; She Comes Unlooked For, If She Comes At All .

Tis All In Vain To Keep A Constant Pother About One Vice And Fall Into Another.

Seas Roll To Waft Me, Suns To Light Me Rise; My Footstool Earth, My Canopy The Skies.

And Each Blasphemer Quite Escape The Rod, Because The Insult's Not On Man, But God?