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When Scandal Has New-minted An Old Lie, Or Tax'd Invention For A Fresh Supply, 'tis Call'd A Satire, And The World Appears Gathering Around It With Erected Ears; A Thousand Names Are Toss'd Into The Crowd, Some Whisper'd Softly, And Some Twang'd Aloud, Just As The Sapience Of An Author's Brain, Suggests It Safe Or Dangerous To Be Plain.

-William Cowper

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When Scandal Has New-minted

William Cowper

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When Scandal Has New-minted An Old Lie, Or Tax'd Invention For A Fresh Supply, 'tis Call'd A Satire, And The World Appears Gathering Around It With Erected Ears; A Thousand Names Are Toss'd Into The Crowd, Some Whisper'd Softly, And Some Twang'd Aloud, Just As The Sapience Of An Author's Brain, Suggests It Safe Or Dangerous To Be Plain.

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Religion! What Treasure Untold Resides In That Heavenly Word!

... She, That Will With Kittens Jest, Should Bear A Kitten's Joke.

Glory, Built On Selfish Principles, Is Shame And Guilt.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.

Stamps God's Own Name Upon A Lie Just Made, To Turn A Penny In The Way Of Trade.

The Things That Mount The Rostrum With A Skip, And Then Skip Down Again, Pronounce A Text, Cry Hem; And Reading What They Never Wrote Just Fifteen Minutes, Huddle Up Their Work, And With A Well-bred Whisper Close The Scene!

The Kindest And The Happiest Pair Will Find Occasion To Forbear; And Something, Every Day They Live, To Pity, And Perhaps Forgive.

Ages Elapsed Ere Homer's Lamp Appear'd, And Ages Ere The Mantuan Swan Was Heard: To Carry Nature Lengths Unknown Before, To Give A Milton Birth, Ask'd Ages More.

Transforms Old Print To Zigzag Manuscript, And Cheats The Eyes Of Gallery Critics By A Thousand Arts.

What Peaceful Hours I Once Enjoy'd! How Sweet Their Memory Still! But They Have Left An Aching Void The World Can Never Fill.

Great Offices Will Have Great Talents, And God Gives To Every Man The Virtue, Temper, Understanding, Taste, That Lifts Him Into Life, And Lets Him Fall Just In The Niche He Was Ordained To Fill.

There Is No Flesh In Man's Obdurate Heart; He Does Not Feel For Man.

A Christian's Wit Is Offensive Light, A Beam That Aids, But Never Grieves The Sight; Vig'rous In Age As In The Flush Of Youth, 'tis Always Active On The Side Of Truth.

Tis Providence Alone Secures In Every Change Both Mine And Yours.

Absence Of Proof Is Not Proof Of Absence.

She That Asks Her Dear Five Hundred Friends, Contemns Them All, And Hates Their Coming.

Made Poetry A Mere Mechanic Art.

Not To Understand A Treasure's Worth Till Time Has Stole Away The Slighted Good, Is Cause Of Half The Poverty We Feel, And Makes The World The Wilderness It Is.

Even In The Stifling Bosom Of The Town, A Garden, In Which Nothing Thrives, Has Charms That Soothes The Rich Possessor; Much Consol'd, That Here And There Some Sprigs Of Mournful Mint, Or Nightshade, Or Valerian, Grace The Well He Cultivates.

Great Contest Follows, And Much Learned Dust Involves The Combatants; Each Claiming Truth, And Truth Disclaiming Both.

Habits Are Soon Assumed; But When We Strive To Strip Them Off, 'tis Being Flayed Alive.

To Impute Our Recovery To Medicine, And To Carry Our View No Further, Is To Rob God Of His Honor, And Is Saying In Effect That He Has Parted With The Keys Of Life And Death, And, By Giving To A Drug The Power To Heal Us, Has Placed Our Lives Out Of His Own Reach.

No One Was Ever Scolded Out Of Their Sins.

Where Men Of Judgment Creep And Feel Their Way, The Positive Pronounce Without Dismay.

Time, As He Passes Us, Has A Dove's Wing, Unsoil'd, And Swift, And Of A Silken Sound.

The Man That Hails You Tom Or Jack, And Proves By Thumps Upon Your Back How He Esteems Your Merit, Is Such A Friend, That One Had Need Be Very Much His Friend Indeed To Pardon Or To Bear It.

Give What Thou Canst, Without Thee We Are Poor; And With Thee Rich, Take What Thou Wilt Away.

All Flesh Is Grass. And All Its Glory Fades Like The Fair Flower Dishevell'd In The Wind; Riches Have Wings, And Grandeur Is A Dream; The Man We Celebrate Must Find A Tomb, And We That Worship Him, Ignoble Graves.

Oh To Have A Lodge In Some Vast Wilderness. Where Rumors Of Oppression And Deceit, Of Unsuccessful And Successful Wars May Never Reach Me Anymore.

Vice Stings Us Even In Our Pleasures, But Virtue Consoles Us Even In Our Pains.

To See The Law By Christ Fulfilled, And Hear His Pardoning Voice Changes A Slave Into A Child, And Duty Into Choice.

Absence From Whom We Love Is Worse Than Death, And Frustrates Hope Severer Than Despair.

Sin Let Loose Speaks Punishment At Hand.

It Is A General Rule Of Judgment, That A Mischief Should Rather Be Admitted Than An Inconvenience.

When All Within Is Peace How Nature Seems To Smile Delights That Never Cease The Live-long Day Beguile

Blest Be The Art That Can Immortalize.

That Good Diffused May More Abundant Grow.

God Moves In A Mysterious Way His Wonders To Perform; He Plants His Footsteps In The Sea, And Rides Upon The Storm. Deep In Unfathomable Mines Of Never Failing Skill He Treasures Up His Bright Designs, And Works His Sovereign Will. Ye Fearful Saints Fresh Courage Take, The Clouds Ye So Much Dread Are Big With Mercy, And Shall Break In Blessings On Your Head. Judge Not The Lord By Feeble Sense, But Trust Him For His Grace; Behind A Frowning Providence He Hides A Smiling Face.

It Chills My Blood To Hear The Blest Supreme Rudely Appealed To On Each Trifling Theme.

How Readily We Wish Time Spent Revoked, That We Might Try The Ground Again Where Once--through Inexperience, As We Now Perceive--we Missed That Happiness We Might Have Found!

Th' Embroid'ry Of Poetic Dreams.

E'er Since, By Faith, I Saw The Stream Thy Flowing Wounds Supply, Redeeming Love Has Been My Theme, And Shall Be Till I Die.

There Is In Souls A Sympathy With Sounds: And As The Mind Is Pitch'd The Ear Is Pleased With Melting Airs, Or Martial, Brisk Or Grave; Some Chord In Unison With What We Hear Is Touch'd Within Us, And The Heart Replies.

Acquaint Thyself With God, If Thou Would'st Taste His Works. Admitted Once To His Embrace, Thou Shalt Perceive That Thou Was Blind Before: Thine Eye Shall Be Instructed; And Thine Heart Made Pure Shall Relish With Divine Delight Till Then Unfelt, What Hands Divine Have Wrought.

England, With All Thy Faults I Love Thee Still, My Country!

As If The World And They Were Hand And Glove.

The Parson Knows Enough Who Knows A Duke.

I Am Monarch Of All I Survey, My Right There Is None To Dispute, From The Centre All Round To The Sea, I Am Lord Of The Fowl And The Brute.

Forgot The Blush That Virgin Fears Impart To Modest Cheeks, And Borrowed One From Art.

Great Offices Will Have Great Talents.

Though Peace Be Made, Yet It's Interest That Keep Peace.

God Forbid That Judges Upon Their Oath Should Make Resolutions To Enlarge Jurisdiction.

Far Happier Are The Dead Methinks Than They Who Look For Death And Fear It Every Day.

But What Is Truth? 'twas Pilate's Question Put To Truth Itself, That Deign'd Him No Reply.

In The Vast, And The Minute, We See The Unambiguous Footsteps Of The God, Who Gives Its Lustre To An Insect's Wing And Wheels His Throne Upon The Rolling Worlds.

All Zeal For A Reform, That Gives Offence To Peace And Charity, Is Mere Pretence.

Hast Thou Not Learnd What Thou Art Often Told, A Truth Still Sacred, And Believed Of Old, That No Success Attends On Spears And Swords Unblest, And That The Battle Is The Lords?

O Solitude, Where Are The Charms That Sages Have Seen In Thy Face? Better Dwell In The Midst Of Alarms, Than Reign In This Horrible Place.

Some To The Fascination Of A Name, Surrender Judgment Hoodwinked.

How Various His Employments Whom The World Calls Idle; And Who Justly In Return Esteems That Busy World An Idler Too!

Strength May Wield The Ponderous Spade, May Turn The Clod, And Wheel The Compost Home; But Elegance, Chief Grace The Garden Shows, And Most Attractive, Is The Fair Result Of Thought, The Creature Of A Polished Mind.

The Cares Of Today Are Seldom Those Of Tomorrow.

[my Kitten] Is Dressed In A Tortoise-shell Suit, And I Know You Will Delight In Her.

How! Leap Into The Pit Our Life To Save? To Save Our Life Leap All Into The Grave.

Tis Pleasant, Through The Loopholes Of Retreat, To Peep At Such A World; To See The Stir Of The Great Babel, And Not Feel The Crowd.

Meditation Here May Think Down Hours To Moments. Here The Heart May Give A Useful Lesson To The Head And Learning Wiser Grow Without His Books.

But Animated Nature Sweeter Still, To Soothe And Satisfy The Human Ear.

How Much A Dunce That Has Been Sent To Roam, Excels A Dunce That Has Been Kept At Home.

There Is Mercy In Every Place. And Mercy, Encouraging Thought Gives Even Affliction A Grace And Reconciles Man To His Lot.

The Man To Solitude Accustom'd Long, Perceives In Everything That Lives A Tongue; Not Animals Alone, But Shrubs And Trees Have Speech For Him, And Understood With Ease, After Long Drought When Rains Abundant Fall, He Hears The Herbs And Flowers Rejoicing All.

A Heretic, My Dear Sir, Is A Fellow Who Disagrees With You Regarding Something Neither Of You Knows Anything About.

The Rich Are Too Indolent, The Poor Too Weak, To Bear The Insupportable Fatigue Of Thinking.

Truth Is The Golden Girdle Of The Globe.

God Moves In Mysterious Ways His Wonders To Performs

Blind Unbelief Is Sure To Err, And Scan His Work In Vain; God Is His Own Interpreter, And He Will Make It Plain.

God Works In Mysterious Ways

Some Men Make Gain A Fountain, Whence Proceeds A Stream Of Liberal And Heroic Deeds; The Swell Of Pity, Not To Be Confined Within The Scanty Limits Of The Mind.

If A Great Man Struggling With Misfortunes Is A Noble Object, A Little Man That Despises Them Is No Contemptible One.

The Few That Pray At All Pray Oft Amiss.

There Goes The Parson, Oh Illustrious Spark! And There, Scarce Less Illustrious, Goes The Clerk.

Learning Itself, Received Into A Mind By Nature Weak, Or Viciously Inclined, Serves But To Lead Philosophers Astray, Where Children Would With Ease Discern The Way.

Friends, Books, A Garden, And Perhaps His Pen, Delightful Industry Enjoy'd At Home, An Nature, In Her Cultivated Trim Dress'ed To His Taste, Inviting Him Abroad - Can He Want Occupation Who Has These?

The Nurse Sleeps Sweetly, Hired To Watch The Sick, / Whom, Snoring, She Disturbs.

How Fleet Is A Glance Of The Mind! Compared With The Speed Of Its Flight, The Tempest Itself Lags Behind, And The Swift-winged Arrows Of Light.

O Winter! Ruler Of The Inverted Year, . . . I Crown Thee King Of Intimate Delights, Fireside Enjoyments, Home-born Happiness, And All The Comforts That The Lowly Roof Of Undisturbed Retirement, And The Hours Of Long Uninterrupted Evening, Know.

There Is In Souls A Sympathy With Sounds.

Mansions Once Knew Their Own Masters, And Laborious Hinds, That Had Surviv'd The Father, Serv'd The Son. Now The Legitimate And Rightful Lord Is But A Transient Guest, Newly Arrived, And Soon To Be Supplanted. He That Saw His Patrimonial Timber Cast Its Leaf, Sells The Last Scantling, And Transfers The Price To Some Shrewd Sharper Ere It Buds Again. Estates Are Landscapes, Gazed Upon Awhile, Then Advertised And Auctioneer'd Away.

Domestic Happiness, Thou Only Bliss Of Paradise That Has Surviv'd The Fall!

Mercy To Him That Shows It, Is The Rule.

All Truth Is Precious, If Not All Divine; And What Dilates The Powers Must Needs Refine.

How Happy It Is To Believe, With A Steadfast Assurance, That Our Petitions Are Heard Even While We Are Making Them; And How Delightful To Meet With A Proof Of It In The Effectual And Actual Grant Of Them.

The Earth Was Made So Various, That The Mind Of Desultory Man, Studious Of Change, And Pleased With Novelty, Might Be Indulged.

I Will Venture To Assert, That A Just Translation Of Any Ancient Poet In Rhyme Is Impossible. No Human Ingenuity Can Be Equal To The Task Of Closing Every Couplet With Sounds Homotonous, Expressing At The Same Time The Full Sense, And Only The Full Sense Of His Original.

It Is A Terrible Thought, That Nothing Is Ever Forgotten; That Not An Oath Is Ever Uttered That Does Not Continue To Vibrate Through All Times, In The Wide Spreading Current Of Sound; That Not A Prayer Is Lisped, That Its Record Is Not To Be Found St

Reasoning At Every Step He Treads, Man Yet Mistakes His Way, Whilst Meaner Things, Whom Instinct Leads, Are Rarely Known To Stray.

But Poverty, With Most Who Whimper Forth Their Long Complaints, Is Self-inflicted Woe; The Effect Of Laziness, Or Sottish Write.

In Man Or Woman, But Far Most In Man, And Most Of All In Man That Ministers, And Serves The Altar, In My Soul I Loathe All Affectation. 'tis My Perfect Scorn: Object Of My Implacable Disgust.

Religion Does Not Censure Or Exclude Unnumbered Pleasures, Harmlessly Pursued.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.i Must Finish My Journey Alone,never Hear The Sweet Music Of Speech;i Start At The Sound Of My Own.

War's A Game, Which, Were Their Subjects Wise, Kings Would Not Play At.

...so Let Us Welcome Peaceful Evening In.

The Fall Of Waters And The Song Of Birds, And Hills That Echo To The Distant Berds, Are Luxuries Excelling All The Glare The World Can Boast, And Her Chief Favorites Share.

Alas! If My Best Friend, Who Laid Down His Life For Me, Were To Remember All The Instances In Which I Have Neglected Him, And To Plead Them Against Me In Judgment, Where Should I Hide My Guilty Head In The Day Of Recompense? I Will Pray, Therefore, For Blessings On My Friends, Even Though They Cease To Be So, And Upon My Enemies, Though They Continue Such.

Not A Flower But Shows Some Touch, In Freckle, Streak Or Stain, Of His Unrivall'd Pencil. He Inspires Their Balmy Odors, And Imparts Their Hues, And Bathes Their Eyes With Nectar, And Includes In Grains As Countless As The Seaside Sands, The Forms With Which He Sprinkles All The Earth Happy Who Walks With Him!

In Indolent Vacuity Of Thought.

There Is A Mixture Of Evil In Everything We Do; Indulgence Encourages Us To Encroach, While We Crabbe Exercise The Rights Of Children, We Become Childish.

And In That Hour, The Seeds Of Cruelty, That Since Have Swell'd To Such Gigantic And Enormous Growth, Were Sown In Human Nature's Fruitful Soil. Hence Date The Persecution And The Pain That Man Inflicts On All Inferior Kinds, Regardless Of Their Plaints.

Admirals Extolled For Standing Still, Or Doing Nothing With A Deal Of Skill.

Tea - The Cups That Cheer But Not Inebriate.

Man In Society Is Like A Flow'r, Blown In Its Native Bed. 'tis There Alone His Faculties Expanded In Full Bloom Shine Out, There Only Reach Their Proper Use.

Ye Therefore Who Love Mercy, Teach Your Sons To Love It, Too.

All Affectation; 'tis My Perfect Scorn; Object Of My Implacable Disgust.

I Venerate The Man Whose Heart Is Warm, Whose Hands Are Pure, Whose Doctrine And Whose Life, Coincident, Exhibit Lucid Proof That He Is Honest In The Sacred Cause.

God Made Bees, And Bees Made Honey, God Made Man, And Man Made Money, Pride Made The Devil, And The Devil Made Sin; So God Made A Cole-pit To Put The Devil In.

Grief Is Itself A Medicine.

Defend Me, Therefore, Common Sense, Say From Reveries So Airy, From The Toil Of Dropping Buckets Into Empty Wells, And Growing Old In Drawing Nothing Up.

Lights Of The World, And Stars Of Human Race.

No, Freedom Has A Thousand Charms To Show That Slaves, Howe'er Contented, Never Know.

Forced From Home, And All Its Pleasures, Afric Coast I Left Forlorn; To Increase A Stranger's Treasures, O The Raging Billows Borne. Men From England Bought And Sold Me, Paid My Price In Paltry Gold; But, Though Theirs They Have Enroll'd Me, Minds Are Never To Be Sold.

They Love The Country, And None Else, Who Seek For Their Own Sake Its Silence And Its Shade. Delights Which Who Would Leave, That Has A Heart Susceptible Of Pity, Or A Mind Cultured And Capable Of Sober Thought.

Slaves Cannot Breathe In England; If Their Lungs Receive Our Air, That Moment They Are Free; They Touch Our Country, And Their Shackles Fall.

O, Popular Applause! What Heart Of Man Is Proof Against Thy Sweet, Seducing Charms?

And, Of All Lies (be That One Poet's Boast) / The Lie That Flatters I Abhor The Most.

Just Knows, And Knows No More, Her Bible True,- A Truth The Brilliant Frenchman Never Knew.

We Are Never More In Danger Than When We Think Ourselves Most Secure, Nor In Reality More Secure Than When We Seem To Be Most In Danger.

Anticipated Rents, And Bills Unpaid, Force Many A Shining Youth Into The Shade, Not To Redeem His Time, But His Estate, And Play The Fool, But At The Cheaper Rate.

Call'd To The Temple Of Impure Delight He That Abstains, And He Alone, Does Right. If A Wish Wander That Way, Call It Home; He Cannot Long Be Safe Whose Wishes Roam.

Spare Feast! A Radish And An Egg.

Absence Of Occupation Is Not Rest; A Mind Quite Vacant Is A Mind Distressed.

Would I Describe A Preacher, I Would Express Him Simple, Grave, Sincere; In Doctrine Uncorrupt; In Language Plain, And Plain In Manner; Decent, Solemn, Chaste, And Natural In Gesture; Much Impress'd Himself, As Conscious Of His Awful Charge, And Anxious Mainly That The Flock He Feeds May Feel It Too; Affectionate In Look, And Tender In Address, As Well Becomes A Messenger Of Grace To Guilty Men.

Solitude, Seeming A Sanctuary, Proves A Grave; A Sepulchre In Which The Living Lie, Where All Good Qualities Grow Sick And Die

Mountains Interposed Make Enemies Of Nations, Who Had Else Like Kindred Drops Been Mingled Into One.

The Path Of Sorrow, And That Path Alone, Leads To The Land Where Sorrow Is Unknown.

Man On The Dubious Waves Of Error Toss'd.

The Dogs Did Bark, The Children Screamed, Up Flew The Windows All; And Every Soul Bawled Out, Well Done! As Loud As He Could Bawl.

Unless A Love Of Virtue Light The Flame, Satire Is, More Than Those He Brands, To Blame; He Hides Behind A Magisterial Air He Own Offences, And Strips Others' Bare.

Lived In His Saddle, Loved The Chase, The Course, And Always, Ere He Mounted, Kiss'd His Horse.

When One That Holds Communion With The Skies Has Fill'd His Urn Where These Pure Waters Rise, And Once More Mingles With Us Meaner Things, 'tis E'en As If An Angel Shook His Wings.

Fate Steals Along With Silent Tread, Found Oftenest In What Least We Dread; Frowns In The Storm With Angry Brow, But In The Sunshine Strikes The Blow.

Good Sense, Good Health, Good Conscience, And Good Fame,--all These Belong To Virtue, And All Prove That Virtue Has A Title To Your Love.

And Hast Thou Sworn On Every Slight Pretence, Till Perjuries Are Common As Bad Pence, While Thousands, Careless Of The Damning Sin, Kiss The Book's Outside, Who Ne'er Look'd Within?

Who Loves A Garden Loves A Greenhouse Too.

Lord, It Is My Chief Complaint, That My Love Is Weak And Faint; Yet I Love Thee And Adore, Oh For Grace To Love Thee More!

Nature, Exerting An Unwearied Power, Forms, Opens, And Gives Scent To Every Flower; Spreads The Fresh Verdure Of The Field, And Leads The Dancing Naiads Through The Dewy Meads.

All Constraint, / Except What Wisdom Lays On Evil Men, / Is Evil.

A Moral, Sensible, And Well-bred Manwill Not Affront Me, And No Other Can.

The Only Amarantine Flower On Earth Is Virtue.

Unmissed But By His Dogs And By His Groom.

Pleasure Admitted In Undue Degree, Enslaves The Will, Nor Leaves The Judgment Free.

God Moves In A Mysterious Way, His Wonders To Perform. He Plants His Footsteps In The Sea, And Rides Upon The Storm.

I Would Not Enter On My List Of Friends (though Graced With Polished Manners And Fine Sense, Yet Wanting Sensibility) The Man Who Needlessly Sets Foot Upon A Worm.

The Beggarly Last Doit.

Some Write A Narrative Of Wars And Feats, Of Heroes Little Known, And Call The Rant A History.

Our Love Is Principle, And Has Its Root In Reason, Is Judicious, Manly, Free.

The Slaves Of Custom And Established Mode, With Pack-horse Constancy We Keep The Road Crooked Or Straight, Through Quags Or Thorny Dells, True To The Jingling Of Our Leader's Bells.

Heaven's Harmony Is Universal Love.

Toil For The Brave! The Brave That Are No More.

Men Deal With Life As Children With Their Play, Who First Misuse, Then Cast Their Toys Away.

And The Tear That Is Wiped With A Little Address, May Be Follow'd Perhaps By A Smile.

A Man Renowned For Repartee Will Seldom Scruple To Make Free With Friendship's Finest Feeling, Will Thrust A Dagger At Your Breast, And Say He Wounded You In Jest, By Way Of Balm For Healing.

An Epigram Is But A Feeble Thing - With Straw In Tail, Stuck There By Way Of Sting.

In A Fleshly Tomb, I Am Buried Above Ground.

But, Oh, Thou Bounteous Giver Of All Good, Thou Art, Of All Thy Gifts, Thyself Thy Crown!

Skins May Differ, But Affection Dwells In White And Black The Same.

Without One Friend, Above All Foes, Britannia Gives The World Repose.

Is Base In Kind, And Born To Be A Slave.

A Life All Turbulence And Noise May Seem To Him That Leads It Wise And To Be Praised, But Wisdom Is A Pearl With Most Success Sought In Still Waters.

England With All Thy Faults, I Love Thee Still-- My Country! And, While Yet A Nook Is Left Where English Minds And Manners May Be Found, Shall Be Constrained To Love Thee.

Go, Mark The Matchless Working Of The Power That Shuts Within The Seed The Future Flower; Bids These In Elegance Of Form Excel. In Color These, And Those Delight The Smell; Sends Nature Forth, The Daughter Of The Skies, To Dance On Earth, And Charm All Human Eyes.

What Is It But A Map Of Busy Life, Its Fluctuations, And Its Vast Concerns?

An Inadvertent Step May Crush The Snail That Crawls At Evening In The Public Path. But He That Has Humanity, Forewarned, Will Turn Aside And Let The Reptile Live.

With Spots Quadrangular Of Diamond Form, Ensanguined Hearts, Clubs Typical Of Strife, And Spades, The Emblems Of Untimely Graves.

[my Kitten's] Gambols Are Not To Be Described, And Would Be Incredible, If They Could.

Variety's The Very Spice Of Life, That Gives It All Its Flavor.

The Mind, Relaxing Into Needful Sport, Should Turn To Writers Of An Abler Sort, Whose Wit Well Managed, And Whose Classic Style, Give Truth A Lustre, And Make Wisdom Smile.

No Wisdom That She May Gain By Experience And Reflection Hereafter, Will Compensate The Loss Of Her Present Hilarity.

I Would Not Have A Slave To Till My Ground, To Carry Me, To Fan Me While I Sleep, And Tremble When I Wake, For All The Wealth That Sinews Bought And Sold Have Ever Earn'd.

If Hindrances Obstruct The Way, Thy Magnanimity Display. And Let Thy Strength Be Seen: But O, If Fortune Fill Thy Sail With More Than A Propitious Gale, Take Half Thy Canvas In.

And Diff'ring Judgments Serve But To Declare That Truth Lies Somewhere, If We Knew But Where.

But Conversation, Choose What Theme We May, And Chiefly When Religion Leads The Way, Should Flow, Like Waters After Summer Show'rs, Not As If Raised By Mere Mechanic Powers.

He That Has Seen Both Sides Of Fifty Has Lived To Little Purpose If He Has No Other Views Of The World Than He Had When He Was Much Younger.

No Traveler E'er Reached That Blest Abode Who Found Not Thorns And Briers In His Road.

Man May Dismiss Compassion From His Heart, But God Never Will.

A Teacher Should Be Sparing Of His Smile.

What Is There In The Vale Of Lifehalf So Delightful As A Wife;when Friendship, Love And Peace Combineto Stamp The Marriage-bond Divine?

Friendship Love

Nor Rural Sights Alone, But Rural Sounds, Exhilirate The Spirit, And Restore The Tone Of Languid Nature.

Misses! The Tale That I Relate This Lesson Seems To Carry-- Choose Not Alone A Proper Mate, But Proper Time To Marry.

Those Flimsy Webs That Break As Soon As Wrought, Attain Not To The Dignity Of Thought.

Some People Are More Nice Than Wise.

Fanaticism, The False Fire Of An Overheated Mind.

Dejection Of Spirits, Which May Have Prevented Many A Man From Becoming An Author, Made Me One. I Find Constant Employment Necessary, And Therefore Take Care To Be Constantly Employed. . . . When I Can Find No Other Occupation, I Think; And When I Think, I Am Very Apt To Do It In Rhyme.

Fashion, Leader Of A Chatt'ring Train, Whom Man For His Own Hurt Permits To Reign Who Shifts And Changes All Things But His Shape, And Would Degrade Her Vot'ry To An Ape, The Fruitful Parent Of Abuse And Wrong, Holds A Usurp'd Dominion O'er His Tongue, There Sits And Prompts Him With His Own Disgrace, Prescribes The Theme, The Tone, And The Grimace, And When Accomplish'd In Her Wayward School, Calls Gentleman Whom She Has Made A Fool.

Built God A Church And Laughed His Word To Scorn.

Sends Nature Forth The Daughter Of The Skies... To Dance On Earth, And Charm All Human Eyes.

But Still Remember, If You Mean To Please, To Press Your Point With Modesty And Ease.

The Man That Dares Traduce, Because He Can With Safety To Himself, Is Not A Man.

Knowledge, A Rude Unprofitable Mass, The Mere Materials With Which Wisdom Builds, Till Smoothed And Squared And Fitted To Its Place, Does But Encumber Whom It Seems To Enrich. Knowledge Is Proud That He Has Learned So Much; Wisdom Is Humble That He Knows No More.

A Lawyer's Dealings Should Be Just And Fair; Honesty Shines With Great Advantage There.

Religion, Richest Favor Of The Skies.

Perhaps Thou Gav'st Me, Though Unseen, A Kiss; Perhaps A Tear, If Souls Can Weep In Bliss.

Remorse, The Fatal Egg By Pleasure Laid, In Every Bosom Where Her Nest Is Made, Hatched By The Beams Of Truth, Denies Him Rest, And Proves A Raging Scorpion In His Breast.

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