But Those Who Cannot Write, And Those

Of Darkness Visible So Much Be Lent, As Half To Show, Half Veil, The Deep Intent.

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

Ask For What End The Heavenly Bodies Shine, Earth For Whose Use? Pride Answers, 'tis For Mine For Me Kind Nature Wakes Her Genial Power, Suckles Each Herb, And Spreads Out Every Flower.

To Buy Books As Some Do Who Make No Use Of Them, Only Because They Were Published By An Eminent Printer, Is Much As If A Man Should Buy Clothes That Did Not Fit Him, Only Because They Were Made By Some Famous Tailor.

Fickle Fortune Reigns, And, Undiscerning, Scatters Crowns And Chains.