Gratitude

The wretch whom gratitude once fails to bind, To truth or honor let him lay no claim; But stand confess'd the brute disguis'd in man. And when we wou'd, with utmost detestation, Single some monster from the traitor-herd, 'Tis but to say, ingratitude's his crime.

When gratitude o'erflows the swelling heart, And breathes in free and uncorrupted praise For benefits receiv'd: propitious heaven Takes such acknowledgment as fragrant incense, And doubles all its blessings.