In A Sadly Pleasing Strain, Let The

There Still Remains To Mortify A Wit The Many-headed Monster Of The Pit.

A Brave Man Thinks No One His Superior Who Does Him An Injury, For He Has It Then In His Power To Make Himself Superior To The Other By Forgiving It.

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

Happy The Man Whose Wish And Care A Few Paternal Acres Bound, Content To Breathe His Native Air In His Own Ground.

Behold The Child, By Nature's Kindly Law Pleased With A Rattle, Tickled With A Straw.