Self-preservation, Nature's First Great Law, All The

Though I Carry Always Some Ill-nature About Me, Yet It Is, I Hope, No More Than Is In This World Necessary For A Preservative.

Now Let Us Sport Us While We May; And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour, Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power.

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head.

And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity.

Music, The Mosaic Of The Air.