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Or own the soul immortal, or invert
All order. Go, mock-majesty! go, man!
And bow to thy superiors of the stall;
Through every scene of sense superior far:
They graze the turf untill'd; they drink the stream
Unbrew'd, and ever full, and unembitter'd
With doubts, fears, fruitless hopes, regrets, despairs;
Mankind's peculiar! Reason's precious dower!
No foreign clime they ransack for their robes;
Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar.
Their good is good entire, unmix'd, unmarr'd;
They find a paradise in every field,
On boughs forbidden, where no curses hang:
Their ill no more than strikes the sense; unstretch'd
By previous dread, or murmur in the rear:
When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd; one stroke
Begins and ends their woe: they die but once;
Bless'd, incommunicable privilege! for which

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Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars,
Philosopher or hero, sighs in vain.