Hope Travels Through, Nor Quits Us When

Oh! Be Thou Blest With All That Heaven Can Send, Long Health, Long Youth, Long Pleasure-and A Friend.

You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

Wine Lets No Lover Unrewarded Go.

No Silver Saints, By Dying Misers Giv'n, Here Brib'd The Rage Of Ill-requited Heav'n; But Such Plain Roofs As Piety Could Raise, And Only Vocal With The Maker's Praise.

See The Wild Waste Of All-devouring Years! How Rome Her Own Sad Sepulchre Appears, With Nodding Arches, Broken Temples Spread! The Very Tombs Now Vanish'd Like Their Dead!