Instructive sound! I’m now convinced by thee,

Time in its womb may bear infinity.

How the past moment dies, and throbs no more!

What worlds of parts compose the rolling hour!

The least of these a serious care demands;

For though they’re little, yet they’re golden sands:

By some great deeds distinguish’d all in heaven,

For the same end to me by number given!

Cease, man, to lavish sums thou ne’er hast told!

Angels, though deathless, dare not be so bold.