Men, just and guileless, at such manners start,
And bless their God that time has fenced their heart,
Confirm'd their virtue, and expell'd the fear
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Of vice in minds so simple and sincere.
Here the good pauper, losing all the praise
By worthy deeds acquired in better days,
Breathes a few months; then, to his chamber led,
Expires, while strangers prattle round his bed.
The grateful hunter, when his horse is old,