This ignorant, besotted fool, sees but
In that beneficent gift, where all is formed
For happiness, a scene of punishment
And death; turns every joy to bitterness,
Reproaches God with never-ending fears,
And, like a thankless wretch, dashes aside
The cup of happiness the Almighty hand
Gives to his lips, when he might know his praise,
And gratitude can but be shown by free
And innocent enjoyment; not content