But thinks admitted to that equal Sky,
His faithful Dog, shall bear him company:
Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense
Weigh thy opinion against Providence;
Call imperfection what thou fancy'st such,
Say here he gives too little, here too much,
Destroy all creatures for thy sport and gust,
Yet cry, if man's unhappy, God's unjust;
If man alone engross not Heaven's high care,
Alone made perfect here, immortal there: