And He who made him, bent him to the right.
Man’s heart th’ Almighty to the future sets,
By secret and inviolable springs; 120
And makes his hope his sublunary joy.
Man’s heart eats all things, and is hungry still;
“More, more!” the glutton cries: for something new
So rages appetite, if man can’t mount,
He will descend. He starves on the possess’d.
Hence, the world’s master, from ambition’s spire,
In Caprea plunged; and dived beneath the brute.