Vanity

So weak are human kind by nature made, Or to such weakness by their vice betray'd, Almighty vanity! to thee they owe Their zest of pleasure and the balm of woe. Thou, like the sun, all coulours dost contain, Varing like rays of light on drops of rain; For ev'ry soul finds reasons to be proud, Tho' hiss'd and hooted by the pointing crowd.