When every Good obey'd my lordly Will,
Did I by Fraud my glitt'ring Coffers fill?
Did I by Fraud increase the tempting Store?
Or dote too fondly on the shining Ore?
Did restless Envy in my Bosom roll?
Or lurking Malice blot my tainted Soul?
No — this fond Heart has bled for distant Woe,
And learn'd Compassion for a sinking Foe.
Did e'er my Soul from its Creator run
To painted Idols, or the beaming Sun?
Or to the Moon my wav'ring Senses yield,
When her pale Rays adorn'd the glist'ring Field?