The glorious foreigners, distress’d, shall sigh
On thrones; and thou congratulate the sigh:
Man’s misery declares him born for bliss; 60
His anxious heart asserts the truth I sing,
And gives the sceptic in his head the lie.
Our heads, our hearts, our passions, and our powers,
Speak the same language; call us to the skies:
Unripen’d these in this inclement clime,
Scarce rise above conjecture, and mistake;
And for this land of trifles those too strong