Those That Have Done Nothing In Life,

Piety Practiced In Solitude, Like The Flower That Blooms In The Desert, May Give Its Fragrance To The Winds Of Heaven, And Delight Those Unbodied Spirits That Survey The Works Of God And The Actions Of Men; But It Bestows No Assistance Upon Earthly Beings, And However Free From Taints Of Impurity, Yet Wants The Sacred Splendor Of Beneficence.

But Grant, The Virtues Of A Temp'rate Prime Bless With An Age Exempt From Scorn Or Crime; An Age That Melts With Unperceived Decay, And Glides In Modest Innocence Away

Labor, If It Were Not Necessary For Existence, Would Be Indispensable For The Happiness Of Man.

Pleasure Is Very Seldom Found Where It Is Sought; Our Brightest Blazes Of Gladness Are Commonly Kindled By Unexpected Sparks.

He That Reads And Grows No Wiser Seldom Suspects His Own Deficiency, But Complains Of Hard Words And Obscure Sentences, And Asks Why Books Are Written Which Cannot Be Understood.