He idly reasons of eternity.
As of the train of ages; when, alas!
Ten thousand thousand of his centuries
Are in comparison, a little point,
Too trivial for account.
Oh it is strange;
'Tis very strange to mark men's fallacies.
Behold him proudly view some pompous pile,
Whose high dome swells to emulate the skies,
And smile, and say, my name shall live with this,