I Fain would speak of Damon's Pride,
But how shall I begin?
Oh! may the Sov'reign Love of God
Shew him how vile he's been!

This then would soon eclipse his Pride
His Heart once could he see:
From thence proceed all evil Thoughts,
A num'rous Train they be!

How vain is Beauty! like the Moth
That's soon crush'd with the hand,
The Butterfly, with pretty Wings,
Can scarce one Summer stand.

Oh, Strephon! who had Beauty once,
And Sense so well refin'd;
His Talents great, were only lent,
How shatter'd now his Mind!

And as along thro' Life you pass,
Be it by Land or Sea,
You surely will with crosses meet,
And disappointed be.

When God rais'd Neb'chadnezzar high,
Away with Pride he's led;
To low'r this haughty Monarch's Pride,
His understanding fled.

When Herod an Oration made,
The People shouted loud;
He quickly eaten was of Worms,
Because the Prince was proud.

I need none of your dull remarks,
Will not young Damon say?
Well, if I must not to you speak,
I'll daily for you pray.