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But Would You Sing, And Rival Orpheus' Strain. The Wond'ring Forests Soon Should Dance Again; The Moving Mountains Hear The Powerful Call. And Headlong Streams Hand Listening In Their Fall!

-Alexander Pope

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But Would You Sing,

Alexander Pope

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But Would You Sing, And Rival Orpheus' Strain. The Wond'ring Forests Soon Should Dance Again; The Moving Mountains Hear The Powerful Call. And Headlong Streams Hand Listening In Their Fall!

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More From Alexander Pope

Like Bubbles On The Sea Of Matter Borne, They Rise, They Break, And To That Sea Return.

From The Moment One Sets Up For An Author, One Must Be Treated As Ceremoniously, That Is As Unfaithfully, "as A King's Favorite Or A King.

Pleas'd Look Forward, Pleas'd To Look Behind,and Count Each Birthday With A Grateful Mind.

A Long, Exact, And Serious Comedy; In Every Scene Some Moral Let It Teach, And, If It Can, At Once Both Please And Preach.

Hope Humbly Then; With Trembling Pinions Soar; Wait The Great Teacher, Death, And God Adore; What Future Bliss He Gives Not Thee To Know, But Gives That Hope To Be Thy Blessing Now.

Tis From High Life High Characters Are Drawn; A Saint In Crape Is Twice A Saint In Lawn: A Judge Is Just, A Chanc'llor Juster Still; A Gownman Learn'd; A Bishop What You Will; Wise If A Minister; But If A King, More Wise, More Learn'd, More Just, More Ev'rything.

A Person Who Is Too Nice An Observer Of The Business Of The Crowd, Like One Who Is Too Curious In Observing The Labor Of Bees, Will Often Be Stung For His Curiosity.

A Perfect Judge Will Read Each Work Of Wit With The Same Spirit That Its Author Writ: Survey The Whole, Nor Seek Slight Faults To Find Where Nature Moves, And Rapture Warms The Mind.

There Is But One Way I Know Of Conversing Safely With All Men; That Is, Not By Concealing What We Say Or Do, But By Saying Or Doing Nothing That Deserves To Be Concealed.

Beauty That Shocks You, Parts That None Will Trust, Wit That Can Creep, And Pride That Licks The Dust.

First Follow Nature, And Your Judgment Frame By Her Just Standard, Which Is Still The Same: Unerring Nature, Still Divinely Bright, One Clear, Unchanged, And Universal Light, Life, Force, And Beauty Must To All Impart, At Once The Source, And End, And Test Of Art.

Let Fortune Do Her Worst, Whatever She Makes Us Lose, So Long As She Never Makes Us Lose Our Honesty And Our Independence.

No Silver Saints, By Dying Misers Giv'n, Here Brib'd The Rage Of Ill-requited Heav'n; But Such Plain Roofs As Piety Could Raise, And Only Vocal With The Maker's Praise.

Envy, To Which Th' Ignoble Mind's A Slave, Is Emulation In The Learn'd Or Brave.

As With Narrow-necked Bottles; The Less They Have In Them, The More Noise They Make In Pouring Out.

So Upright Quakers Please Both Man And God.

Then, At The Last And Only Couplet Fraught With Some Unmeaning Thing They Call A Thought, A Needless Alexandrine Ends The Song, That, Like A Wounded Snake, Drags Its Slow Length Along.

Not To Go Back Is Somewhat To Advance, And Men Must Walk, At Least, Before They Dance.

Learn From The Birds What Food The Thickets Yield; Learn From The Beasts The Physic Of The Field; The Arts Of Building From The Bee Receive; Learn Of The Mole To Plow, The Worm To Weave.

Know, Nature's Children All Divide Her Care, The Fur That Warms A Monarch Warmed A Bear.

Leave Not A Foot Of Verse, A Foot Of Stone, A Page, A Grave, That They Can Call Their Own; But Spread, My Sons, Your Glory Thin Or Thick, On Passive Paper, Or On Solid Brick.

You Beat Your Pate, And Fancy Wit Will Come: Knock As You Please, There's No Body At Home.

Behold The Groves That Shine With Silver Frost, Their Beauty Withered, And Their Verdure Lost!

While I Live, No Rich Or Noble Knave Shall Walk The World In Credit To His Grave.

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.

Love, Hope, And Joy, Fair Pleasure's Smiling Train, Hate, Fear, And Grief, The Family Of Pain, These Mix'd With Art, And To Due Bounds Confin'd Make And Maintain The Balance Of The Mind.

How Index-learning Turns No Student Pale, Yet Holds The Eel Of Science By The Tail!

Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife.

Education Forms The Common Mind. Just As The Twig Is Bent, The Tree's Inclined.

A Wit With Dunces, And A Dunce With Wits.

The People's Voice Is Odd, It Is, And It Is Not, The Voice Of God.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

That Each From Other Differs, First Confess; Next That He Varies From Himself No Less.

New, Distant Scenes Of Endless Science Rise: So Pleas'd At First, The Towring Alps We Try.

Here Am I, Dying Of A Hundred Good Symptoms.

Famous Last Words

Whate'er The Passion, Knowledge, Fame, Or Pelf, Not One Will Change His Neighbor With Himself.

The Lights And Shades, Whose Well-accorded Strife Gives All The Strength And Color Of Our Life.

Pretty Conceptions, Fine Metaphors, Glittering Expressions, And Something Of A Neat Cast Of Verse Are Properly The Dress, Gems, Or Loose Ornaments Of Poetry.

And All Who Told It Added Something New, And All Who Heard It, Made Enlargements Too.

Mankind Is Unamendable.

Whether The Charmer Sinner It, Or Saint It, If Folly Grow Romantic, I Must Paint It.

To Happy Convents, Bosomed Deep In Vines, Where Slumber Abbots, Purple As Their Wines.

Be Not The First By Whom The New Are Tried, Nor Yet The Last To Lay The Old Aside.

What's Fame? A Fancy'd Life In Other's Breath. A Thing Beyond Us, Even Before Our Death.

Whether With Reason, Or With Instinct Blest, Know, All Enjoy That Pow'r Which Suits Them Best.

But To The World No Bugbear Is So Great, As Want Of Figure And A Small Estate.

Thus Unlamented Pass The Proud Away, The Gaze Of Fools And Pageant Of A Day; So Perish All, Whose Breast Ne'er Learn'd To Glow For Others' Good, Or Melt At Others' Woe.

The Ruling Passion, Be It What It Will. The Ruling Passion Conquers Reason Still.

Why Has Not Man A Microscopic Eye? For This Plain Reason, Man Is Not A Fly. Say What The Use, Were Finer Optics Giv'n, T' Inspect A Mite, Not Comprehend The Heav'n.

Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread.

Never Elated When Someone's Oppressed, Never Dejected When Another One's Blessed.

See The Wild Waste Of All-devouring Years! How Rome Her Own Sad Sepulchre Appears, With Nodding Arches, Broken Temples Spread! The Very Tombs Now Vanish'd Like Their Dead!

We May See The Small Value God Has For Riches, By The People He Gives Them To.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows.

Still Follow Sense, Of Ev'ry Art The Soul, Parts Answering Parts Shall Slide Into A Whole.

False Happiness Is Like False Money; It Passes For A Time As Well As The True, And Serves Some Ordinary Occasions; But When It Is Brought To The Touch, We Find The Lightness And Alloy, And Feel The Loss.

Only Music Has The Ability To Take You To The Edge Of Reality And Allow You To Peek In For A Moment.

At Present We Can Only Reason Of The Divine Justice From What We Know Of Justice In Man. When We Are In Other Scenes, We May Have Truer And Nobler Ideas Of It; But While We Are In This Life, We Can Only Speak From The Volume That Is Laid Open Before Us.

On Life's Vast Ocean Diversely We Sail, Reason The Card, But Passion Is The Gale; Nor God Alone In The Still Calm We Find, He Mounts The Storm, And Walks Upon The Wind.

Learn To Live Well, Or Fairly Make Your Will; You've Play'd, And Lov'd, And Ate, And Drank Your Fill: Walk Sober Off, Before A Sprightlier Age Comes Titt'ring On, And Shoves You From The Stage.

Truths Would You Teach, Or Save A Sinking Land? All Fear, None Aid You, And Few Understand.

The Search Of Our Future Being Is But A Needless, Anxious, And Haste To Be Knowing, Sooner Than We Can, What, Without All This Solicitude, We Shall Know A Little Later.

Giving Advice Is Many Times Only The Privilege Of Saying A Foolish Thing One's Self, Under The Pretense Of Hindering Another From Doing One.

Who Taught That Heaven-directed Spire To Rise?

The Physician, By The Study And Inspection Of Urine And Ordure, Approves Himself In The Science; And In Like Sort Should Our Author Accustom And Exercise His Imagination Upon The Dregs Of Nature.

How Vast A Memory Has Love!

Choose A Firm Cloud Before It Fall, And In It Catch, Ere She Change, The Cynthia Of This Minute.

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor Her Favors Call.

Get Your Enemy To Read Your Works In Order To Mend Them, For Your Friend Is So Much Your Second Self That He Will Judge Too Like You.

No Senses Stronger Than His Brain Can Bear. Why Has Not Man A Microscopic Eye? For This Plain Reason, Man Is Not A Fly: What The Advantage, If His Finer Eyes Study A Mite, Not Comprehend The Skies?... Or Quick Effluvia Darting Thro' His Brain, Die Of A Rose, In Aromatic Pain? If Nature Thunder'd In His Opening Ears, And Stunn'd Him With The Music Of The Spheres... Who Finds Not Providence All-good And Wise, Alike In What It Gives, And What Denies?

Let Joy Or Ease, Let Affluence Or Content, And The Gay Conscience Of A Life Well Spent, Calm Ev'ry Thought, Inspirit Ev'ry Grace, Glow In Thy Heart, And Smile Upon Thy Face.

Beauties In Vain Their Pretty Eyes May Roll; Charms Strike The Sight, But Merit Wins The Soul.

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Pleasures Are Ever In Our Hands Or Eyes; And When In Act They Cease, In Prospect Rise.

'tis Not Enough Your Counsel Still Be True; Blunt Truths More Mischief Than Nice Falsehoods Do.

Who Sees With Equal Eye, As God Of All, A Hero Perish Or A Sparrow Fall, Atoms Or Systems Into Ruin Hurl'd, And Now A Bubble Burst, And Now A World.

Some To Conceit Alone Their Taste Confine, And Glittering Thoughts Struck Out At Ev'ry Line; Pleas'd With A Work Where Nothing's Just Or Fit; One Glaring Chaos And Wild Heap Of Wit.

Be Thou The First True Merit To Befriend, His Praise Is Lost Who Stays Till All Commend.

The Most Positive Men Are The Most Credulous.

Who Sees Pale Mammom Pine Amidst His Store, Sees But A Backward Steward For The Poor.

Slave To No Sect, Who Takes No Private Road, But Looks Through Nature Up To Nature's God.

Wit In Conversation Is Only A Readiness Of Thought And A Facility Of Expression, Or A Quick Conception And An Easy Delivery.

So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

Be Silent Always When You Doubt Your Sense.

Do You Find Yourself Making Excuses When You Do Not Perform? Shed The Excuses And Face Reality. Excuses Are The Loser's Way Out. They Will Mar Your Credibility And Stunt Your Personal Growth.

Finding Yourself

So Modern 'pothecaries, Taught The Art By Doctor's Bills To Play The Doctor's Part, Bold In The Practice Of Mistaken Rules, Prescribe, Apply, And Call Their Masters Fools.

Two Purposes In Human Nature Rule. Self- Love To Urge, And Reason To Restrain.

Not Grace, Or Zeal, Love Only Was My Call, And If I Lose Thy Love, I Lose My All.

The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heartfelt Joy.

To Rest, The Cushion And Soft Dean Invite, Who Never Mentions Hell To Ears Polite.

Remembrance And Reflection How Allied. What Thin Partitions Divides Sense From Thought.

I Find Myself Hoping A Total End Of All The Unhappy Divisions Of Mankind By Party-spirit, Which At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

Love Finds An Altar For Forbidden Fires.

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.

Statesman, Yet Friend To Truth! Of Soul Sincere, In Action Faithful, And In Honour Clear; Who Broke No Promise, Serv'd No Private End, Who Gain'd No Title, And Who Lost No Friend.

We Ought, In Humanity, No More To Despise A Man For The Misfortunes Of The Mind Than For Those Of The Body, When They Are Such As He Cannot Help; Were This Thoroughly Considered We Should No More Laugh At A Man For Having His Brains Cracked Than For Having His Head Broke.

The Greatest Advantage I Know Of Being Thought A Wit By The World Is, That It Gives One The Greater Freedom Of Playing The Fool.

Interspersed In Lawn And Opening Glades, Thin Trees Arise That Shun Each Others' Shades.

Taste, That Eternal Wanderer, Which Flies From Head To Ears, And Now From Ears To Eyes.

And Soften'd Sounds Along The Waters Die: Smooth Flow The Waves, The Zephyrs Gently Play.

Old Politicians Chew On Wisdom Past, And Totter On In Business To The Last.

Drink Is The Feast Of Reason And The Flow Of Soul.

A Wise Physician, Skill'd Our Wounds To Heal, Is More Than Armies To The Public Weal.

At Length Corruption, Like A General Flood (so Long By Watchful Ministers Withstood), Shall Deluge All; And Avarice, Creeping On, Spread Like A Low-born Mist, And Blot The Sun.

There Is No Study That Is Not Capable Of Delighting Us After A Little Application To It.

The Mouse That Always Trusts To One Poor Hole Can Never Be A Mouse Of Any Soul.

A Fellow Feeling Makes Us Wondrous Kind.

Ambition First Sprung From Your Blest Abodes: The Glorious Fault Of Angels And Of Gods.

The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home, Rests And Expatiates In A Life To Come.

I Believe No One Qualification Is So Likely To Make A Good Writer, As The Power Of Rejecting His Own Thoughts.

What Can Ennoble Sots, Or Slaves, Or Cowards? Alas! Not All The Blood, Of All The Howards.

Ah! Why, Ye Gods, Should Two And Two Make Four?

Count All Th' Advantage Prosperous Vice Attains, 'tis But What Virtue Flies From And Disdains: And Grant The Bad What Happiness They Would, One They Must Want--which Is, To Pass For Good.

Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The Wit, There Is No Cure 'gainst Age But It

Such As Are Still Observing Upon Others Are Like Those Who Are Always Abroad At Other Men's Houses, Reforming Everything There While Their Own Runs To Ruin.

All Other Goods By Fortune's Hand Are Given, A Wife Is The Peculiar Gift Of Heaven.

The Way Of The Creative Works Through Change And Transformation, So That Each Thing Receives Its True Nature And Destiny And Comes Into Permanent Accord With The Great Harmony: This Is What Furthers And What Perseveres.

Age And Want Sit Smiling At The Gate.

Let Sinful Bachelors Their Woes Deplore; Full Well They Merit All They Feel, And More: Unaw By Precepts, Human Or Divine, Like Birds And Beasts, Promiscuously They Join.

The Time Shall Come, When, Free As Seas Or Wind, Unbounded Thames Shall Flow For All Mankind, Whole Nations Enter With Each Swelling Tide, And Seas But Join The Regions They Divide; Earth's Distant Ends Our Glory Shall Behold, And The New World Launch Forth To Seek The Old.

Of All The Causes Which Conspire To Blind Man's Erring Judgement, And Misguide The Mind, What The Weak Head With Strongest Bias Rules, Is Pride, The Never-failing Vice Of Fools.

For He Lives Twice Who Can At Once Employ, The Present Well, And E'en The Past Enjoy.

Time Management

No Louder Shrieks To Pitying Heaven Are Cast, When Husbands Or Lap-dogs Breathe Their Last.

How Happy Is The Blameless Vestal's Lot? The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot.

I Never Knew Any Man In My Life Who Could Not Bear Another's Misfortunes Perfectly Like A Christian.

On Wings Of Wind Came Flying All Abroad.

Ah! What Avails It Me The Flocks To Keep, Who Lost My Heart While I Preserv'd My Sheep.

Die Of A Rose In Aromatic Pain.

Fair Tresses Man's Imperial Race Ensnare; And Beauty Draws Us With A Single Hair.

Blest Paper-credit! Last And Best Supply! That Lends Corruption Lighter Wings To Fly!

What Is Fame? A Fancied Life In Others' Breath.

Never Elated While One Man's Oppress'd; Never Dejected While Another's Blessed.

So Perish All Who Do The Like Again.

The Sound Must Seem An Echo To The Sense.

Seas Roll To Waft Me, Suns To Light Me Rise; My Footstool Earth, My Canopy The Skies.

The Vanity Of Human Life Is Like A River, Constantly Passing Away, And Yet Constantly Coming On.

An Atheist Is But A Mad, Ridiculous Derider Of Piety, But A Hypocrite Makes A Sober Jest Of God And Religion; He Finds It Easier To Be Upon His Knees Than To Rise To A Good Action.

See! From The Brake The Whirring Pheasant Springs, And Mounts Exulting On Triumphant Wings; Short Is His Joy! He Feels The Fiery Wound, Flutters In Blood, And Panting Beats The Ground.

Eve Left Adam, To Meet The Devil In Private.

Trace Science, Then, With Modesty Thy Guide, First Strip Off All Her Equipage Of Pride, Deduct What Is But Vanity Or Dress, Or Learning's Luxury Or Idleness, Or Tricks, To Show The Stretch Of The Human Brain Mere Curious Pleasure Or Ingenious Pain.

Find, If You Can, In What You Cannot Change. Manners With Fortunes, Humours Turn With Climes, Tenets With Books, And Principles With Times.

Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From Heaven.

Good God! How Often Are We To Die Before We Go Quite Off This Stage? In Every Friend We Lose A Part Of Ourselves, And The Best Part.

But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company.

Yet Graceful Ease, And Sweetness Void Of Pride, Might Hide Her Faults, If Belles Had Faults To Hide: If To Her Share Some Female Errors Fall, Look On Her Face, And You'll Forget 'em All.

The Meeting Points The Sacred Hair Dissever From The Fair Head, Forever, And Forever! Then Flashed The Living Lightning From Her Eyes, And Screams Of Horror Rend Th' Affrighted Skies.

In Lazy Apathy Let Stoics Boast, Their Virtue Fixed, 'tis Fixed As In A Frost.

And Seem To Walk On Wings, And Tread In Air.

Time Conquers All, And We Must Time Obey.

An Excuse Is Worse And More Terrible Than A Lie; For An Excuse Is A Lie Guarded.

And Binding Nature Fast In Fate, Left Free The Human Will.

Blessed Is The Man Who Expects Nothing, For He Shall Never Be Disappointed Was The Ninth Beatitude.

Death, Only Death, Can Break The Lasting Chain; And Here, Ev'n Then, Shall My Cold Dust Remain

Tis Thus The Mercury Of Man Is Fix'd, Strong Grows The Virtue With His Nature Mix'd.

Music Resembles Poetry, In Each Are Nameless Graces Which No Methods Teach, And Which A Master Hand Alone Can Reach.

Some Are Bewildered In The Maze Of Schools, And Some Made Coxcombs Nature Meant But Fools.

Superstition Is The Spleen Of The Soul.

No Craving Void Left Aching In The Soul.

When To Mischief Mortals Bend Their Will, How Soon They Find It Instruments Of Ill.

See How The World Its Veterans Rewards! A Youth Of Frolics, An Old Age Of Cards; Fair To No Purpose, Artful To No End, Young Without Lovers, Old Without A Friend; A Fop Their Passion, But Their Prize A Sot; Alive Ridiculous, And Dead Forgot.

The Light Of Heaven Restore; Give Me To See, And Ajax Asks No More.

Persons Of Genius, And Those Who Are Most Capable Of Art, Are Always Most Fond Of Nature: As Such Are Chiefly Sensible, That All Art Consists In The Imitation And Study Of Nature.

Light Quirks Of Music, Broken And Uneven,make The Soul Dance Upon A Jig To Heav'n.

Sleep And Death, Two Twins Of Winged Race, Of Matchless Swiftness, But Of Silent Pace.

There Are Some Solitary Wretches Who Seem To Have Left The Rest Of Mankind, Only, As Eve Left Adam, To Meet The Devil In Private.

That, Chang'd Thro' All And Yet In All The Same, Great In The Earth As In Th' Ætherial Frame, Warms In The Sun, Refreshes In The Breeze, Glows In The Stars, And Blossoms In The Trees... Breathes In Our Soul, Informs Our Mortal Part... Submit - In This, Or Any Other Sphere, Secure To Be As Blest As Thou Canst Bear. All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To Thee; All Chance, Direction Which Thou Canst Not See; All Discord, Harmony Not Understood... All Partial Evil, Universal Good.

All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See

Two Women Seldom Grow Intimate But At The Expense Of A Third Person; They Make Friendships As Kings Of Old Made Leagues, Who Sacrificed Some Poor Animal Betwixt Them, And Commenced Strict Allies; So The Ladies, After They Have Pulled Some Character To Pieces, Are From Henceforth Inviolable Friends.

Lo, What Huge Heaps Of Littleness Around!

And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

The Nicest Constitutions Of Government Are Often Like The Finest Pieces Of Clock-work, Which, Depending On So Many Motions, Are Therefore More Subject To Be Out Of Order.

You Eat, In Dreams, The Custard Of The Day.

Teach Me To Feel Another's Woe, To Hide The Fault I See, That Mercy I To Others Show, That Mercy Show To Me.

I Was Not Born For Courts And Great Affairs, But I Pay My Debts, Believe And Say My Prayers.

Truth Shines The Brighter, Clad In Verse.

Love, Free As Air, At Sight Of Human Ties, Spreads His Light Wings, And In A Moment Flies.

Avoid Extremes; And Shun The Fault Of Such Who Still Are Pleas'd Too Little Or Too Much.

But Would You Sing, And Rival Orpheus' Strain. The Wond'ring Forests Soon Should Dance Again; The Moving Mountains Hear The Powerful Call. And Headlong Streams Hand Listening In Their Fall!

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

A King May Be A Tool, A Thing Of Straw; But If He Serves To Frighten Our Enemies, And Secure Our Property, It Is Well Enough; A Scarecrow Is A Thing Of Straw, But It Protects The Corn.

Of Little Use, The Man You May Suppose, Who Says In Verse What Others Say In Prose; Yet Let Me Show A Poet's Of Some Weight, And (though No Soldier) Useful To The State, What Will A Child Learn Sooner Than A Song? What Better Teach A Foreigner The Tongue? What's Long Or Short, Each Accent Where To Place And Speak In Public With Some Sort Of Grace?

If, Presume Not To God To Scan; The Proper Study Of Mankind Is Man. Plac'd On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise, And Rudely Great.

To Be, Contents His Natural Desire, He Asks No Angel's Wing, No Seraph's Fire; But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company. Go Wiser Thou! And In Thy Scale Of Sense Weigh Thy Opinion Against Providence.

When We Are Young, We Are Slavishly Employed In Procuring Something Whereby We May Live Comfortably When We Grow Old; And When We Are Old, We Perceive It Is Too Late To Live As We Proposed.

The Zeal Of Fools Offends At Any Time.

Order Is Heaven's First Law; And This Confessed, Some Are, And Must Be, Greater Than The Rest, More Rich, More Wise; But Who Infers From Hence That Such Are Happier, Shocks All Common Sense. Condition, Circumstance, Is Not The Thing; Bliss Is The Same In Subject Or In King.

Then Sculpture And Her Sister Arts Revived; Stones Leaped To Form, And Rocks Began To Live.

Ladies, Like Variegated Tulips, Show 'tis To Their Changes Half Their Charms We Owe.

The Pure And Noble, The Graceful And Dignified, Simplicity Of Language Is Nowhere In Such Perfection As In The Scriptures And Homer. The Whole Book Of Job, With Regard Both To Sublimity Of Thought And Morality, Exceeds, Beyond All Comparison, The Most Noble Parts Of Homer.

Whatever Is, Is Right.

Where'er You Walk Cool Gales Shall Fan The Glade, Trees Where You Sit Shall Crowd Into A Shade. Where'er You Tread The Blushing Flowers Shall Rise, And All Things Flourish Where You Turn Your Eyes.

Aurora Now, Fair Daughter Of The Dawn, Sprinkled With Rosy Light The Dewy Lawn.

The Difference Is As Great Between The Optics Seeing As The Objects Seen. All Manners Take A Tincture From Our Own; Or Come Discolor'd Through Out Passions Shown; Or Fancy's Beam Enlarges, Multiplies, Contracts, Inverts, And Gives Ten Thousand Dyes.

And You, My Critics! In The Chequer'd Shade, Admire New Light Thro' Holes Yourselves Have Made.

For Forms Of Government Let Fools Contest; Whate'er Is Best Administer'd Is Best. For Modes Of Faith Let Graceless Zealots Fight; His Can't Be Wrong Whose Life Is In The Right. In Faith And Hope The World Will Disagree, But All Mankind's Concern Is Charity.

Bear, Like The Turk, No Brother Near The Throne.

Such Labour'd Nothings, In So Strange A Style, Amaze Th' Unlearn'd And Make The Learned Smile.

True Friendship's Laws Are By This Rule Express'd, Welcome The Coming, Speed The Parting Guest.

Why Did I Write? Whose Sin To Me Unknown Dipt Me In Ink, My Parents', Or My Own? As Yet A Child, Nor Yet A Fool To Fame, I Lisp'd In Numbers, For The Numbers Came.

All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To Thee All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See; All Discord, Harmony Not Understood; All Partial Evil, Universal Good.

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