“All, all are equal:  Heaven’s impartial mind
    One bliss, one woe allots to all mankind: 
    And he whose morn seem’d wrapp’d in cloudy night,
    Shall see his evening glow with placid light. 
    Thro’ calm prosperity’s serenest sky
    The approaching gales of adverse fortune sigh;
    And when Affliction whets her keenest dart,
    And hurls it, flaming, at the shrinking heart,
    Celestial Hope with golden wing attends,
    Heals every wound, and every toil befriends: 
    The horrors vanish; gleams of light divine
    Illume the cloud, and thro’ its openings shine;
    As the bow, herald of ethereal peace,
    Smiles thro’ the storm, and makes the tempest please.

      “To sway the whirlwind, gathering clouds control,
    Arrest the sun, or shake with storms the pole,
    Heaven gives to none:—­nor have the mightiest power
    To stop the current of one changeful hour: 
    Resistless Fate with even course proceeds,
    And o’er their levell’d pomp her thundering chariot leads. 
    But all can solace their afflicted mind
    With temperate wishes, and a will resign’d,
    Can cheer the sad, improve the prosperous hour,
    With meek Humility, and Virtue’s power: 
    With these, terrestrial pleasures never cloy,
    And fear is lost in peace, and sorrow turns to joy.

      “Yet oft’ the brave resisting soul, like thee,
    At random borne across Life’s wintery sea,
    When various tempests, with successive force,
    Still drive her devious from her destined course,
    With labour worn, at last the helm resigns,
    And in deep anguish at her lot repines;
    Despair throws round impenetrable gloom,
    And Death invites her to the ready tomb.

      “Let faithful Memory tell (for Memory can)
    How thy first years in even current ran;
    How every pleasure, every good, combined
    To feast with countless sweets thy tranquil mind: 
    Each passing joy a kindred joy pursued,
    Nor ask’d the aid of sad vicissitude. 
    Swift flew thy boat, thro’ isles with verdure crown’d,
    Heaven’s smile above, and prosperous seas around: 
    O’er the smooth waves Hope’s cheering zephyr pass’d,
    And every wave seem’d smoother than the last.

      “Soon fled those halcyon days.  The storm began;
    From pole to pole the doubling thunder ran. 
    Yet still with patient toil I saw thee urge
    Thy fearless passage o’er the gloomy surge;
    Still Faith discern’d the harbour of repose,
    And panting Hope look’d forward to the close.

      “As vapours, slowly thickening, blot away,
    Beam after beam, the sacred orb of day;
    So woes on woes in long continuance blind
    The sense, and blunt the vigour of the mind;
    ’Till, by some sudden gust of misery cross’d,
    On the mad ocean of despondence