To A Philosopher No Circumstance, However Trifling,

It Is Not Easy To Recover An Art When Once Lost.

How Wide The Limits Stand Between A Splendid And A Happy Land.

Though Very Poor, May Still Be Very Blest.

Near Yonder Thorn, That Lifts Its Head On High, Where Once The Sign-post Caught The Passing Eye, Low Lies That House Where Nut-brown Draughts Inspired, Where Graybeard Mirth And Smiling Toil Retired, Where Village Statesmen Talk'd With Looks Profound, And News Much Older Than Their Ale Went Round.

For The First Time, The Best May Err, Art May Persuade, And Novelty Spread Out Its Charms. The First Fault Is The Child Of Simplicity; But Every Other The Offspring Of Guilt.