No Creature Smarts So Little As A

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

The Villain's Censure Is Extorted Praise.

Others Import Yet Nobler Arts From France, Teach Kings To Fiddle, And Make Senates Dance.

Ye Flowers That Drop, Forsaken By The Spring, Ye Birds That, Left By Summer, Cease To Sing, Ye Trees That Fade, When Autumn Heats Remove, Say, Is Not Absence Death To Those Who Love?

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