And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear! 729
Be death your theme, in every place and hour;
Nor longer want, ye monumental sires!
A brother tomb to tell you ye shall die.
That death you dread (so great is Nature’s skill)
Know, you shall court before you shall enjoy.
But you are learn’d; in volumes deep, you sit;
In wisdom, shallow: pompous ignorance!
Would you be still more learned than the learn’d?
Learn well to know how much need not be known,