“Vain, trifling mortal! could’st thou boast
To prize what Nature prizes most
On man bestow’d, thou would’st not see
With envy aught she gives to me.
This painted vestment, all my store,
She gives, and I can claim no more—
But man, for greater ends design’d,
Should boast the beauties of the mind.
More bright than gold with wisdom shine,
And virtue’s sacred charms be thine: