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Who Combats Bravely Is Not Therefore Brave, He Dreads A Death-bed Like The Meanest Slave: Who Reasons Wisely Is Not Therefore Wise,- His Pride In Reasoning, Not In Acting Lies.

-Alexander Pope

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Who Combats Bravely Is

Alexander Pope

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Who Combats Bravely Is Not Therefore Brave, He Dreads A Death-bed Like The Meanest Slave: Who Reasons Wisely Is Not Therefore Wise,- His Pride In Reasoning, Not In Acting Lies.

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But See, The Shepherds Shun The Noonday Heat, The Lowing Herds To Murmuring Brooks Retreat, To Closer Shades The Panting Flocks Remove; Ye Gods! And Is There No Relief For Love?

A Wit With Dunces, And A Dunce With Wits.

E'en Sunday Shines No Sabbath Day To Me.

What Nothing Earthly Gives, Or Can Destroy, The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heart-felt Joy, Is Virtue's Prize.

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

Hope Travels Through, Nor Quits Us When We Die.

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

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!

Homer Excels All The Inventors Of Other Arts In This: That He Has Swallowed Up The Honor Of Those Who Succeeded Him.

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

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

So Man, Who Here Seems Principal Alone, Perhaps Acts Second To Some Sphere Unknown Touches Some Wheel, Or Verges To Some Goal; 'tis But A Part We See, And Not A Whole.

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.

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 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.

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.

Is That A Birthday? 'tis, Alas! Too Clear; 'tis But The Funeral Of The Former Year.

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.

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

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.

Luxurious Lobster-nights, Farewell, For Sober, Studious Days!

The Dying Christian To His Soul (1712) -vital Spark Of Heav'nly Flame! Quit, Oh Quit, This Mortal Frame: Trembling, Hoping, Ling'ring, Flying, Oh The Pain, The Bliss Of Dying! Stanza 1.

A Perfect Judge Will Read Each Word Of Wit With The Same Spirit That Its Author Writ.

Coffee Which Makes The Politician Wise, And See Through All Things With His Half-shut Eyes.

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.

Fear Not The Anger Of The Wise To Raise; Those Best Can Bear Reproof Who Merit Praise.

A Family Is But Too Often A Commonwealth Of Malignants.

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.

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

There Are Certain Times When Most People Are In A Disposition Of Being Informed, And 'tis Incredible What A Vast Good A Little Truth Might Do, Spoken In Such Seasons.

And More Than Echoes Talk Along The Walls.

Praise Undeserved, Is Satire In Disguise.

Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And Liquid Amber Drop From Every Thorn.

Thus Let Me Live, Unseen, Unknown, Thus Unlamented Let Me Die, Steal From The World, And Not A Stone Tell Where I Lie.

Some Have At First For Wits, Then Poets Passed, Turned Critics Next, And Proved Plain Fools At Last.

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Destroy All Creatures For Thy Sport Or Gust, Yet Cry, If Man's Unhappy, God's Unjust.

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

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 Those Who Cannot Write, And Those Who Can, All Rhyme, And Scrawl, And Scribble, To A Man.

All Looks Yellow To The Jaundiced Eye. [and Therefore The Solution Is To Fix The Jaundiced Eye.]

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.

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

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

Trade It May Help, Society Extend, But Lures The Pirate, Ant Corrupts The Friend: It Raises Armies In A Nation's Aid, But Bribes A Senate, And The Land's Betray'd.

All Looks Yellow To A Jaundiced Eye.

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

How Do We Know That We Have A Right To Kill Creatures That We Are So Little Above, As Dogs, For Our Curiosity Or Even For Some Use To Us?

If Faith Itself Has Different Dresses Worn, What Wonder Modes In Wit Should Take Their Turn?

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!

Is Not Absence Death To Those Who Love?

Saying Good Bye

Most Women Have No Characters At All.

The Life Of A Wit Is A Warfare Upon Earth.

True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dress'd What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Express'd; Something Whose Truth Convinced At Sight We Find, That Gives Us Back The Image Of Our Mind. As Shades More Sweetly Recommend The Light, So Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit.

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

The Character Of Covetousness, Is What A Man Generally Acquires More Through Some Niggardliness Or Ill Grace In Little And Inconsiderable Things, Than In Expenses Of Any Consequence.

All Nature Is But Art Unknown To Thee.

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

Our Plenteous Streams A Various Race Supply, The Bright-eyed Perch With Fins Of Tyrian Dye, The Silver Eel, In Shining Volumes Roll'd, The Yellow Carp, In Scales Bedropp'd With Gold, Swift Trouts, Diversified With Crimson Stains, And Pikes, The Tyrants Of The Wat'ry Plains.

Plays Round The Head, But Comes Not To The Heart. One Self-approving Hour Whole Years Outweighs Of Stupid Starers And Of Loud Huzzas; And More True Joy Marcellus Exil'd Feels Than Cæsar With A Senate At His Heels. In Parts Superior What Advantage Lies? Tell (for You Can) What Is It To Be Wise? 't Is But To Know How Little Can Be Known; To See All Others' Faults, And Feel Our Own.

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

Time Management

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.

What Will A Child Learn Sooner Than A Song?

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

Heaven Gave To Woman The Peculiar Grace To Spin, To Weep, And Cully Human Race.

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.

For Lo! The Board With Cups And Spoons Is Crowned.the Berries Crackle, And The Mill Turns Round ... At Once They Gratify Their Scent And Taste.and Frequent Cups Prolong The Rich Repast... Coffee (which Makes The Politician Wise And See Through All Things With His Half-shut Eyes).

Some People Are Commended For A Giddy Kind Of Good-humor, Which Is As Much A Virtue As Drunkenness.

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

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

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

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

All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See

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.

Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise And Rudely Great... He Hangs Between; In Doubt To Act Or Rest; In Doubt To Deem Himself A God, Or Beast; In Doubt His Mind Or Body To Prefer; Born To Die, And Reasoning But To Err.

Behold The Child, By Nature's Kindly Law, Pleased With A Rattle, Tickled With A Straw; Some Livelier Plaything Gives His Youth Delight, A Little Louder, But As Empty Quite; Scarfs, Garters, Gold, Amuse His Riper Stage, And Beads And Prayer-books Are The Toys Of Age. Pleased With This Bauble Still, As That Before, Till Tired He Sleeps, And Life's Poor Play Is O'er.

The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits Appear To Ripen.

The Good Must Merit God's Peculiar Care; But Who But God Can Tell Us Who They Are?

Horses (thou Say'st) And Asses Men May Try, And Ring Suspected Vessels Ere They Buy; But Wives, A Random Choice, Untried They Take; They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake; Then, Nor Till Then, The Veil's Removed Away, And All The Woman Glares In Open Day.

Nor Public Flame, Nor Private, Dares To Shine; Nor Human Spark Is Left, Nor Glimpse Divine! Lo! Thy Dread Empire, Chaos! Is Restored; Light Dies Before Thy Uncreating Word: Thy Hand, Great Anarch! Lets The Curtain Fall; And Universal Darkness Buries All.

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

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

A Fellow Feeling Makes Us Wondrous Kind.

Hope Springs Eternal.

Is There A Parson Much Bemused In Beer, A Maudlin Poetess, A Rhyming Peer, A Clerk Foredoom'd His Father's Soul To Cross, Who Pens A Stanza When He Should Engross?

Now Warm In Love, Now With'ring In My Bloom Lost In A Convent's Solitary Gloom!

Is Pride, The Never-failing Vice Of Fools.

Those Oft Are Stratagems Which Errors Seem Nor Is It Homer Nods, But We That Dream.

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

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.

Praise From A Friend, Or Censure From A Foe, Are Lost On Hearers That Our Merits Know.

In The Nice Bee, What Sense So Subtly True From Pois'nous Herbs Extracts The Healing Dew?

Every Man Has Just As Much Vanity As He Wants Understanding.

Some Praise At Morning What They Blame At Night, But Always Think The Last Opinion Right.

Unthought-of Frailties Cheat Us In The Wise.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows.

Fix'd Like A Plant On His Peculiar Spot, To Draw Nutrition, Propagate And Rot.

A Brave Man Struggling In The Storms Of Fate, And Greatly Falling With A Falling State.

The Grave Unites; Where E'en The Great Find Rest, And Blended Lie Th' Oppressor And Th' Oppressed!

Vast Chain Of Being! Which From God Began, Natures Ethereal, Human, Angel, Man, Beast, Bird, Fish, Insect, What No Eye Can See, No Glass Can Reach, From Infinite To Thee, From Thee To Nothing.

Music The Fiercest Grief Can Charm, And Fate's Severest Rage Disarm. Music Can Soften Pain To Ease, And Make Despair And Madness Please; Our Joys Below It Can Improve, And Antedate The Bliss Above.

Strength Of Mind Is Exercise, Not Rest.

Here Hills And Vales, The Woodland And The Plain Here Earth And Water Seem To Strive Again, Not Chaos-like Together Crushed And Bruised, But, As The World, Harmoniously Confused: Where Order In Variety We See, And Where, Though All Things Differ, All Agree.

Intestine War No More Our Passions Wage, And Giddy Factions Bear Away Their Rage.

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

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor For Her Favors Call; She Comes Unlooked For, If She Comes At All .

True Self-love And Social Are The Same.

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

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.

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.

The Greatest Magnifying Glasses In The World Are A Man's Own Eyes When They Look Upon His Own Person.

No Writing Is Good That Does Not Tend To Better Mankind In Some Way Or Other.

See Plastic Nature Working To This End, The Single Atoms Each To Other Tend, Attract, Attracted To, The Next In Place Form'd And Impell'd Its Neighbor To Embrace.

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

Here Am I, Dying Of A Hundred Good Symptoms.

Famous Last Words

Be Silent Always When You Doubt Your Sense.

Women, As They Are Like Riddles In Being Unintelligible, So Generally Resemble Them In This, That They Please Us No Longer Once We Know Them.

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

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

Eye Nature's Walks, Shoot Folly As It Flies, And Catch The Manners Living As They Rise; Laugh Where We Must, Be Candid Where We Can, But Vindicate The Ways Of God To Man.

Age And Want Sit Smiling At The Gate.

The Spider's Touch, How Exquisitely Fine! Feels At Each Thread, And Lives Along The Line.

Astrologers That Future Fates Foreshow.

Chaos Of Thought And Passion, All Confus'd.

Know Then, Unnumber'd Spirits Round Thee Fly, The Light Militia Of The Lower Sky.

See Christians, Jews, One Heavy Sabbath Keep, And All The Western World Believe And Sleep.

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

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.

Do Good By Stealth, And Blush To Find It Fame.

Party-spirit At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

Heaven Forming Each On Other To Depend, A Master, Or A Servant, Or A Friend, Bids Each On Other For Assistance Call, Till One Man's Weakness Grows The Strength Of All.

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.

And Write About It, Goddess, And About It!

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

The Finest Minds, Like The Finest Metals, Dissolve The Easiest.

The Dances Ended, All The Fairy Train For Pinks And Daisies Search'd The Flow'ry Plain.

By Flatterers Besieged And So Obliging That He Ne'er Obliged.

And Not A Vanity Is Given In Vain.

Fondly We Think We Honor Merit Then, When We But Praise Ourselves In Other 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.

Wit Is The Lowest Form Of Humor.

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

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

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

Woman's At Best A Contradiction Still.

As Some To Church Repair, Not For The Doctrine, But The Music There.

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

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

Live Like Yourself, Was Soon My Lady's Word, And Lo! Two Puddings Smok'd Upon The Board.

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

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

Who Dies In Youth And Vigour, Dies The Best.

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.

Envy Will Merit, As Its Shade, Pursue

Dogs, Ye Have Had Your Day!

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

The Dull Flat Falsehood Serves For Policy, And In The Cunning, Truth's Itself A Lie.

The Muse But Serv'd To Ease Some Friend, Not Wife, / To Help Me Through This Long Disease, My Life.

Learn From The Beasts The Physic Of The Field.

Love Finds An Altar For Forbidden Fires.

True Politeness Consists In Being Easy One's Self, And In Making Every One About One As Easy As One Can.

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

Ten Censure Wrong For One Who Writes Amiss.

I Believe It Is No Wrong Observation, That Persons Of Genius, And Those Who Are Most Capable Of Art, Are Always Fond Of Nature, As Such Are Chiefly Sensible, That All Art Consists In The Imitation And Study Of Nature. On The Contrary, People Of The Common Level Of Understanding Are Principally Delighted With The Little Niceties And Fantastical Operations Of Art, And Constantly Think That Finest Which Is Least Natural.

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

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

Who Finds Not Providence All Good And Wise, Alike In What It Gives, And What Denies.

Who Builds A Church To God And Not To Fame, Will Never Mark The Marble With His Name.

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.

Lo! The Poor Indian! Whose Untutor'd Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind; His Soul Proud Science Never Taught To Stray Far As The Solar Walk Or Milky Way.

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.

One Science Only Will One Genius Fit; So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

Satire's My Weapon, But I'm Too Discreet To Run Amuck, And Tilt At All I Meet.

For When Success A Lover's Toil Attends,few Ask, If Fraud Or Force Attain'd His Ends

Beauty Draws Us With A Single Hair.

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.

A God Without Dominion, Providence, And Final Causes, Is Nothing Else But Fate And Nature.

Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle State.

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought.

Our Passions Are Like Convulsion Fits, Which, Though They Make Us Stronger For A Time, Leave Us The Weaker Ever After.

What So Pure, Which Envious Tongues Will Spare? Some Wicked Wits Have Libell'd All The Fair, With Matchless Impudence They Style A Wife, The Dear-bought Curse, And Lawful Plague Of Life; A Bosom Serpent, A Domestic Evil, A Night Invasion, And A Mid-day Devil; Let Not The Wise These Sland'rous Words Regard, But Curse The Bones Of Ev'ry Living Bard.

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.

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.

Nothing Is More Certain Than Much Of The Force; As Well As Grace, Of Arguments Or Instructions Depends Their Conciseness.

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

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.

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.

Authors, Like Coins, Grow Dear As They Grow Old.

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.

Tis True, 'tis Certain; Man, Though Dead, Retains Part Of Himself; The Immortal Mind Remains.

Ye Gods, Annihilate But Space And Time, And Make Two Lovers Happy.

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

But See, Orion Sheds Unwholesome Dews; Arise, The Pines A Noxious Shade Diffuse; Sharp Boreas Blows, And Nature Feels Decay, Time Conquers All, And We Must Time Obey.

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

Reason's Whole Pleasure, All The Joys Of Sense, Lie In Three Words,-health, Peace, And Competence.

He Knows To Live Who Keeps The Middle State, And Neither Leans On This Side Nor On That.

Our Grandsire, Adam, Ere Of Eve Possesst, Alone, And E'en In Paradise Unblest, With Mournful Looks The Blissful Scenes Survey'd, And Wander'd In The Solitary Shade. The Maker Say, Took Pity, And Bestow'd Woman, The Last, The Best Reserv'd Of God.

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

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

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.

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