'
The author already appears, by his numbers, to be a versifier; and by
his scenery, to be a poet; it therefore only remains that his sentiments
discover him to be a just estimator of comparative happiness.
The goods of life are either given by nature, or procured by ourselves.
Nature has distributed her gifts in very different proportions, yet all
her children are content; but the acquisitions of art are such as
terminate in good or evil, as they are differently regulated or
combined.
'Yet, where to find that happiest spot below,
Who can direct, when all pretend to know?
The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone
Boldly asserts that country for his own,
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
And live-long nights of revelry and ease;
The naked Negro, panting at the line,
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
And thanks his Gods for all the good they gave.--
Nature, a mother kind alike, to all,
Still grants her bliss at Labour's earnest call;
And though rough rocks or gloomy summits frown,
These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down.
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