Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes; The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods.

Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sk…

So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe.

What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?