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The Best Way To Prove The Clearness Of Our Mind, Is By Showing Its Faults; As When A Stream Discovers The Dirt At The Bottom, It Convinces Us Of The Transparency And Purity Of The Water.

-Alexander Pope

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The Best Way To

Alexander Pope

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The Best Way To Prove The Clearness Of Our Mind, Is By Showing Its Faults; As When A Stream Discovers The Dirt At The Bottom, It Convinces Us Of The Transparency And Purity Of The Water.

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Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From Heaven.

Oh, Blindness To The Future! Kindly Giv'n, That Each May Fill The Circle Mark'd By Heaven.

All Looks Yellow To A Jaundiced Eye That Habitually Compares Everything To Something Better. But By Changing That Habit To Comparing Everything To Something Worse, Even Making It A Game, That Person Can Find Gratitude, Relief And Happiness Where-ever They Go And Whatever They Experience, Guaranteed!

I Begin Where Most People End, With A Full Conviction Of The Emptiness Of All Sorts Of Ambition, And The Unsatisfactory Nature Of All Human Pleasures.

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.

Passions Are The Gales Of Life.

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

Some Men's Wit Is Like A Dark Lantern, Which Serves Their Own Turn And Guides Them Their Own Way, But Is Never Known (according To The Scripture Phrase) Either To Shine Forth Before Men, Or To Glorify Their Father In Heaven.

'tis Not A Lip, Or Eye, We Beauty Call, But The Joint Force And Full Result Of All.

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be, In Every Work Regard The Writer's End, Since None Can Compass More Than They Intend; And If The Means Be Just, The Conduct True, Applause, In Spite Of Trivial Faults, Is Due.

On Wings Of Wind Came Flying All Abroad.

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.

I Think A Good Deal May Be Said To Extenuate The Fault Of Bad Poets. What We Call A Genius, Is Hard To Be Distinguish'd By A Man Himself, From A Strong Inclination: And If His Genius Be Ever So Great, He Can Not At First Discover It Any Other Way, Than By Giving Way To That Prevalent Propensity Which Renders Him The More Liable To Be Mistaken.

For Critics, As They Are Birds Of Prey, Have Ever A Natural Inclination To Carrion.

How Instinct Varies In The Grov'ling Swine.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Deep, Or Taste Not The Pierian Spring.

And Little Eagles Wave Their Wings In Gold.

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

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

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.

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.

The Blest To-day Is As Completely So, As Who Began A Thousand Years Ago.

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

Charm Strikes The Sight, But Merit Wins The Soul.

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

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.

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.

Know Then This Truth, Enough For Man To Know Virtue Alone Is Happiness Below.

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.

Never Was It Given To Mortal Man - To Lie So Boldly As We Women Can.

Who Shall Decide When Doctors Disagree, And Soundest Casuists Doubt, Like You And Me?

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

Some Old Men, Continually Praise The Time Of Their Youth. In Fact, You Would Almost Think That There Were No Fools In Their Days, But Unluckily They Themselves Are Left As An Example.

All Nature's Diff'rence Keeps All Nature's Peace.

Like Following Life Through Creatures You Dissect, You Lose It In The Moment You Detect.

To Err Is Human; To Forgive, Divine.

Conceit Is To Nature What Paint Is To Beauty; It Is Not Only Needless, But It Impairs What It Would Improve.

Judges And Senates Have Been Bought For Gold; Esteem And Love Were Never To Be Sold.

The Lot Of Man - To Suffer And To Die.

Go, Wiser Thou! And In Thy Scale Of Sense Weigh Thy Opinion Against Providence.

It Is Observable That The Ladies Frequent Tragedies More Than Comedies; The Reason May Be, That In Tragedy Their Sex Is Deified And Adored, In Comedy Exposed And Ridiculed.

Who Know But He, Whose Hand The Lightning Forms, Who Heaves Old Ocean, And Who Wings The Storms, Pours Fierce Ambition In A Caesar's Mind.

Lo, What Huge Heaps Of Littleness Around!

Dogs, Ye Have Had Your Day!

Virtue, I Grant You, Is An Empty Boast; But Shall The Dignity Of Vice Be Lost?

Physicians Are In General The Most Amiable Companions And The Best Friends, As Well As The Most Learned Men I Know.

Of All Affliction Taught A Lover Yet, 'tis True The Hardest Science To Forget.

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

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

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

He Who Tells A Lie Is Not Sensible Of How Great A Task He Undertakes; For He Must Be Forced To Invent Twenty More To Maintain That One.

In Various Talk Th' Instructive Hours They Past, Who Gave The Ball, Or Paid The Visit Last; One Speaks The Glory Of The British Queen, And One Describes A Charming Indian Screen; A Third Interprets Motions, Looks, And Eyes; At Every Word A Reputation Dies.

Learn From The Beasts The Physic Of The Field.

Grave Authors Say, And Witty Poets Sing, That Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing.

Judge Not Of Actions By Their Mere Effect; Dive To The Center, And The Cause Detect. Great Deeds From Meanest Springs May Take Their Course, And Smallest Virtues From A Mighty Source.

Simplicity Is The Mean Between Ostentation And Rusticity.

The Approach Of Night The Skies Yet Blushing With Departing Light, When Falling Dews With Spangles Deck'd The Glade, And The Low Sun Had Lengthen'd Ev'ry Shade.

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

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

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

Heaven Breathes Thro' Ev'ry Member Of The Whole One Common Blessing, As One Common Soul.

Who Dies In Youth And Vigour, Dies The Best.

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

Praise Is Like Ambergrease: A Little Whiff Of It, And By Snatches, Is Very Agreeable; But When A Man Holds A Whole Lump Of It To Your Nose, It Is A Stink, And Strikes You Down.

The Lamb Thy Riot Dooms To Bleed Today, Had He Thy Reason, Would He Skip And Play? Pleas'd To The Last He Crops The Flow'ry Food, And Licks The Hand Just Rais'd To Shed His Blood.

It Is Sure The Hardest Science To Forget!

Education Forms The Common Mind.

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.

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

Who Are Next To Knaves? Those That Converse With Them.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense.

E'en Sunday Shines No Sabbath Day To Me.

Chaste To Her Husband, Frank To All Beside, A Teeming Mistress, But A Barren Bride.

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

Lend, Lend Your Wings! I Mount! I Fly! O Grave! Where Is Thy Victory? O Death! Where Is Thy Sting?

In Death A Hero, As In Life A Friend!

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

On Life's Vast Ocean Diversely We Sail. Reasons The Card, But Passion The Gale.

O Let Us Still The Secret Joy Partake, To Follow Virtue Even For Virtue's Sake.

Who Dare To Love Their Country, And Be Poor.

So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

The Enormous Faith Of Many Made For One.

If It Be The Chief Point Of Friendship To Comply With A Friends Motions And Inclinations, He Possesses This In A Eminent Degree; He Lies Down When I Sit, And Walks When I Walk, Which Is More Than Many Good Friends Can Pretend To Do.

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

Soft O'er The Shrouds Aerial Whispers Breathe, That Seemed But Zephyrs To The Train Beneath.

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

And Not A Vanity Is Given In Vain.

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.

The Bookful Blockhead Ignorantly Read, With Loads Of Learned Lumber In His Head, With His Own Tongue Still Edifies His Ears, And Always List'ning To Himself Appears. All Books He Reads, And All He Reads Assails.

But Blind To Former As To Future Fate, What Mortal Knows His Pre-existent State?

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

As Some To Church Repair, Not For The Doctrine, But The Music There. These Equal Syllables Alone Require, Though Oft The Ear The Open Vowels Tire While Expletives Their Feeble Aid Do Join, And Ten Low Words Oft Creep In One Dull Line.

The Hungry Judges Soon The Sentence Sign, And Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

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

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

Virtue She Finds Too Painful An Endeavour, Content To Dwell In Decencies For Ever.

Poets Like Painters, Thus Unskilled To Trace The Naked Nature And The Living Grace, With Gold And Jewels Cover Ev'ry Part, And Hide With Ornaments Their Want Of Art. True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dressed, What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Expressed.

For Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife, Though Meant Each Other's Aid, Like Man And Wife.

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.

Thus God And Nature Linked The Gen'ral Frame, And Bade Self-love And Social Be The Same.

With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught; With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought.

Some Judge Of Authors' Names, Not Works, And Then Nor Praise Nor Blame The Writings, But The Men.

Our Rural Ancestors, With Little Blest, Patient Of Labor When The End Was Rest, Indulged The Day That Housed Their Annual Grain, With Feasts, And Off'rings, And A Thankful Strain.

When Much Dispute Has Past, We Find Our Tenets Just The Same As Last.

Gentle Dullness Ever Loves A Joke.

Virtuous And Vicious Every Man Must Be, Few In The Extreme, But All In The Degree.

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

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

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

Nay, Fly To Altars; There They'll Talk You Dead; For Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread.

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Most Authors Steal Their Works, Or Buy.

Beauty Draws Us With A Single Hair.

Self-love, The Spring Of Motion, Acts The Soul; Reason's Comparing Balance Rules The Whole. Man, But For That No Action Could Attend, And, But For This, Were Active To No End: Fix'd Like A Plant On His Peculiar Spot, To Draw Nutrition, Propagate, And Rot; Or, Meteor-like, Flame Lawless Thro' The Void, Destroying Others, By Himself Destroy'd.

To Balance Fortune By A Just Expense, Join With Economy, Magnificence.

Strength Of Mind Is Exercise, Not Rest.

From Nature's Chain Whatever Link You Strike, Tenth Or Ten Thousandth, Breaks The Chain Alike.

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

What Dire Offence From Am'rous Causes Springs, What Mighty Contests Rise From Trivial Things.

So Upright Quakers Please Both Man And God.

At Every Trifle Take Offense, That Always Shows Great Pride Or Little Sense.

Truth Shines The Brighter, Clad In Verse.

A Fly, A Grape-stone, Or A Hair Can Kill.

Nor In The Critic Let The Man Be Lost.

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.

For What I Have Publish'd, I Can Only Hope To Be Pardon'd; But For What I Have Burned, I Deserve To Be Prais'd.

Then Marble, Soften'd Into Life, Grew Warm.

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.

Vice Is A Monster Of So Frightful Mien As To Be Hated Needs But To Be Seen; Yet Seen Too Oft, Familiar With Her Face, We First Endure, Then Pity, Then Embrace.

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.

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

To Pardon Those Absurdities In Ourselves Which We Cannot Suffer In Others Is Neither Better Nor Worse Than To Be More Willing To Be Fools Ourselves Than To Have Others So.

There Never Was Any Party, Faction, Sect, Or Cabal Whatsoever, In Which The Most Ignorant Were Not The Most Violent; For A Bee Is Not A Busier Animal Than A Blockhead.

A Man Who Admires A Fine Woman, Has Yet Not More Reason To Wish Himself Her Husband, Than One Who Admired The Hesperian Fruit, Would Have Had To Wish Himself The Dragon That Kept It.

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

She Went From Opera, Park, Assembly, Play, To Morning Walks, And Prayers Three Hours A Day. To Part Her Time 'twixt Reading And Bohea, To Muse, And Spill Her Solitary Tea, Or O'er Cold Coffee Trifle With The Spoon, Count The Slow Clock, And Dine Exact At Noon.

Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit, For Works May Have More With Than Does 'em Good, As Bodies Perish Through Excess Of Blood.

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

What Woeful Stuff This Madrigal Would Be, In Some Starved Hackney Sonneteer, Or Me! But Let A Lord Once Own The Happy Lines, How The Wit Brightens! How The Style Refines!

See Skulking Truth To Her Old Cavern Fled, Mountains Of Casuistry Heap'd O'er Her Head! Philosophy, That Lean'd On Heav'n Before, Shrinks To Her Second Cause, And Is No More. Physic Of Metaphysic Begs Defence, And Metaphysic Calls For Aid On Sense! See Mystery To Mathematics Fly!

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

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

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

Let Such Teach Others Who Themselves Excel, And Censure Freely Who Have Written Well.

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.

Fame Can Never Make Us Lie Down Contentedly On A Deathbed.

That Character In Conversation Which Commonly Passes For Agreeable Is Made Up Of Civility And Falsehood.

All Nature Mourns, The Skies Relent In Showers; Hushed Are The Birds, And Closed The Drooping Flowers.

Whoe'er He Be That Tells My Faults, I Hate Him Mortally.

And Hence One Master-passion In The Breast, Like Aaron's Serpent, Swallows Up The Rest.

But Thousands Die Without Or This Or That, Die, And Endow A College Or A Cat.

The Heart Resolves This Matter In A Trice, "men Only Feel The Smart, But Not The Vice.

What Conscience Dictates To Be Done, Or Warns Me Not To Do; This Teach Me More Than Hell To Shun, That More Than Heav'n Pursue.

That Virtue Only Makes Our Bliss Below, And All Our Knowledge Is Ourselves To Know.

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

Though Triumphs Were To Generals Only Due, Crowns Were Reserved To Grace The Soldiers Too.

All Looks Yellow To A Jaundiced Eye.

For I, Who Hold Sage Homer's Rule The Best, Welcome The Coming, Speed The Going Guest.

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.

Fickle Fortune Reigns, And, Undiscerning, Scatters Crowns And Chains.

Yes, I Am Proud; I Must Be Proud To See Men Not Afraid Of God, Afraid Of Me.

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.

Virtue May Choose The High Or Low Degree, 'tis Just Alike To Virtue, And To Me; Dwell In A Monk, Or Light Upon A King, She's Still The Same Belov'd, Contented Thing.

Wise Wretch! With Pleasures Too Refined To Please, With Too Much Spirit To Be E'er At Ease, With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught, With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought: You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give, And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

If I Am Right, Thy Grace Impart Still In The Right To Stay; If I Am Wrong, O, Teach My Heart To Find That Better Way!

Index-learning Turns No Student Pale, Yet Holds The Eel Of Science By The Tail. Index-learning Is A Term Used To Mock Pretenders Who Acquire Superficial Knowledge Merely By Consulting Indexes.

Superficial Knowledge

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.

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.

Oh! Be Thou Blest With All That Heaven Can Send, Long Health, Long Youth, Long Pleasure-and A Friend.

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

Good-nature And Good-sense Must Ever Join; To Err Is Human, To Forgive, Divine.

O Love! For Sylvia Let Me Gain The Prize, And Make My Tongue Victorious As Her Eyes.

No Craving Void Left Aching In The Soul.

Unblemish'd Let Me Live Or Die Unknown; Oh, Grant An Honest Fame, Or Grant Me None!

With The Mistake Your Life Goes In Reverse. Now You Can See Exactly What You Did Wrong Yesterday And Wrong The Day Before And Each Mistake Leads Back To Something Worse.

Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife.

To Endeavor To Work Upon The Vulgar With Fine Sense Is Like Attempting To Hew Blocks With A Razor.

Awake, My St. John! Leave All Meaner Things To Low Ambition And The Pride Of Kings. Let Us (since Life Can Little More Supply Than Just To Look About Us, And To Die) Expatiate Free O'er All This Scene Of Man; A Mighty Maze! But Not Without A Plan.

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.

I Have More Zeal Than Wit.

Trust Not Yourself, But Your Defects To Know, Make Use Of Every Friend And Every Foe.

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.

Worth Makes The Man, And Want Of It The Fellow; The Rest Is All But Leather And Prunello.

No More Was Seen The Human Form Divine.

For Forms Of Government, Let Fools Contest; Whate'er Is Best Administered, Is Best.

Curse On All Laws But Those Which Love Has Made.

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.

Reason, However Able, Cool At Best, Cares Not For Service, Or But Serves When Prest, Stays Till We Call, And Then Not Often Near.

Order Is Heaven's First Law; And This Confess, Some Are And Must Be Greater Than The Rest.

When To The Permanent Is Sacrificed The Mutable, The Prize Is Thine: The Drop Returneth Whence It Came. The Open Path Leads To The Changeless Change - Non-being, The Glorious State Of Absoluteness, The Bliss Past Human Thought.

Pride Is Still Aiming At The Best Houses: Men Would Be Angels, Angels Would Be Gods. Aspiring To Be Gods, If Angels Fell; Aspiring To Be Angels Men Rebel.

The Hog That Ploughs Not, Not Obeys Thy Call, Lives On The Labours Of This Lord Of All.

When Two People Compliment Each Other With The Choice Of Anything, Each Of Them Generally Gets That Which He Likes Least.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense. There Are Forty Men Of Wit For One Man Of Sense; And He That Will Carry Nothing About Him But Gold, Will Be Every Day At A Loss For Want Of Readier Change.

Heav'n From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate, All But The Page Prescribed, Their Present State: From Brutes What Men, From Men What Spirits Know: Or Who Could Suffer Being Here Below?

Pleased To The Last, He Crops The Flowery Food, And Licks The Hand Just Raised To Shed His Blood.

There Is Nothing Wanting To Make All Rational And Disinterested People In The World Of One Religion, But That They Should Talk Together Every Day.

Here Thou, Great Anna! Whom Three Realms Obey, / Dost Sometimes Counsel Take—and Sometimes Tea.

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

How Glowing Guilt Exalts The Keen Delight!

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