Classic Poem

When doting man is led by meteor whim,
What bright successes on his thoughts await!
He deems the world was made alone for him,
And he the spared favorite of fate,
Whom Heaven journals ‘good,’ and Nature, ‘great.’
So Jack, that bears the phosphorescent fire,
Deludes at night the poor inebriate;
He sees at last the faithless lamp expire,
And bides a wretched time in fathoming the mire.