“Wealth, Health and Friends has bounteous Heaven supply’d;
The happiest Spirits and the loveliest Maid
That ever smil’d; and yet am I afraid.
For Friends have fallen off, and Love grown cold,
And failing Health sigh’d over useless Gold;
While the strong Spirits, once to Error led,
Have flam’d to Madness or in Anguish fled.
Nay, look not thus; against myself I plead; 190
Bid thee be grave, and yet would not succeed.
No, let me think my Tracy, when away—