A Disputant No More Cares For The

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

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.

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.

Dogs, Ye Have Had Your Day!

A Naked Lover Bound And Bleeding Lies!