Pleasure, Or Wrong Or Rightly Understood, Our

Who Know But He, Whose Hand The Lightning Forms, Who Heaves Old Ocean, And Who Wings The Storms, Pours Fierce Ambition In A Caesar's Mind.

Oh! Blest With Temper, Whose Unclouded Ray Can Make To-morrow Cheerful As To-day.

Of Fight Or Fly, This Choice Is Left Ye, To Resist Or Die.

Authors, Like Coins, Grow Dear As They Grow Old.

Envy, To Which Th' Ignoble Mind's A Slave, Is Emulation In The Learn'd Or Brave.