Here Am I, Dying Of A Hundred

For Forms Of Government, Let Fools Contest; Whate'er Is Best Administered, Is Best.

Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams And Fables Of The Sky.

In Faith And Hope The World Will Disagree, But All Mankind's Concern Is Charity.

Here Hills And Vales, The Woodland And The Plain Here Earth And Water Seem To Strive Again, Not Chaos-like Together Crushed And Bruised, But, As The World, Harmoniously Confused: Where Order In Variety We See, And Where, Though All Things Differ, All Agree.

Beauties In Vain Their Pretty Eyes May Roll; Charms Strike The Sight, But Merit Wins The Soul.