But Me, Not Destined Such Delights To

Age, That Lessens The Enjoyment Of Life, Increases Our Desire Of Living

Fear Guides More To Their Duty Than Gratitude; For One Man Who Is Virtuous From The Love Of Virtue, From The Obligation He Thinks He Lies Under To The Giver Of All, There Are Ten Thousand Who Are Good Only From Their Apprehension Of Punishment.

It Seemed To Me Pretty Plain, That They Had More Of Love Than Matrimony In Them.

Blest Be That Spot, Where Cheerful Guests Retire To Pause From Toil, And Trim Their Evening Fire; Blest That Abode, Where Want And Pain Repair, And Every Stranger Finds A Ready Chair Blest Be Those Feasts With Simple Plenty Crown'd, Where All The Ruddy Family Around Laugh At The Jest Or Pranks, That Never Fail, Or Sigh With Pity At Some Mournful Tale, Or Press The Bashful Stranger To His Food, And Learn The Luxury Of Doing Good.

We Had No Revolutions To Fear, Nor Fatigues To Undergo; All Our Adventures Were By The Fireside, And All Our Migrations From The Blue Bed To The Brown.