But where to find that happiest spot below,

Who can direct, when all pretend to know?

10

The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone

Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own,

Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,

And his long nights of revelry and ease;

The naked negro, panting at the line,

Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,

Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,

And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.

Such is the patriot’s boast, where’er we roam,

His first, best country ever is at home;

And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,

And estimate the blessings which they share,

Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find

An equal portion dealt to all mankind—

mankind—

As different good, by art or nature given

To different nations, makes their blessings even.

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