Behold The Child, By Nature's Kindly Law

Tis All In Vain To Keep A Constant Pother About One Vice And Fall Into Another.

Behold The Groves That Shine With Silver Frost, Their Beauty Withered, And Their Verdure Lost!

Who Combats Bravely Is Not Therefore Brave, He Dreads A Death-bed Like The Meanest Slave: Who Reasons Wisely Is Not Therefore Wise,- His Pride In Reasoning, Not In Acting Lies.

Ladies, Like Variegated Tulips, Show 'tis To Their Changes Half Their Charms We Owe.

Poets Like Painters, Thus Unskilled To Trace The Naked Nature And The Living Grace, With Gold And Jewels Cover Ev'ry Part, And Hide With Ornaments Their Want Of Art. True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dressed, What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Expressed.