And groans beneath oppression’s rod;
Or filial duty weeps a parent’s woe;
Pale constancy hangs o’er her urn,
Distracted love laments, from all his wishes torn.
Oh, wise vicissitudes of fate below!
To humble haughty man, and lift the soul to God.
The frantic eye, the hurrying pace,
Th’ impressive horrors of thy face,
For me have more sublime delights
Than all thy laughing sisters airy flights: