Some Men Make Gain A Fountain, Whence

I Have A Kitten,the Drollest Of All Creatures That Ever Wore A Cat's Skin.

Religion, If In Heavenly Truths Attired, Needs Only To Be Seen To Be Admired.

Ever Let The Fancy Roam, Pleasure Never Is At Home.

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

I Was A Poet Too; But Modern Taste Is So Refined And Delicate And Chaste, That Verse, Whatever Fire The Fancy Warms, Without A Creamy Smoothness Has No Charms. Thus, All Success Depending On An Ear, And Thinking I Might Purchase It Too Dear, If Sentiment Were Sacrific'd To Sound, And Truth Cut Short To Make A Period Round, I Judg'd A Man Of Sense Could Scarce Do Worse Than Caper In The Morris-dance Of Verse.