Imitation Pleases, Because It Affords Matter For

He Was The Man Who Of All Modern, And Perhaps Ancient Poets, Had The Largest And Most Comprehensive Soul. . . . He Was Naturally Learn'd; He Needed Not The Spectacles Of Books To Read Nature; He Looked Inwards, And Found Her There. . . . He Is Many Times Flat, Insipid; His Comic Wit Degenerating In To Clenches, His Serious Swelling Into Bombast. But He Is Always Great, When Some Occasion Is Presented To Him.

For Lawful Power Is Still Superior Found, When Long Driven Back, At Length It Stands The Ground.

Pity Only On Fresh Objects Stays, But With The Tedious Sight Of Woes Decays.

The Love Of Liberty With Life Is Given, And Life Itself The Inferior Gift Of Heaven.

But 'tis The Talent Of Our English Nation, Still To Be Plotting Some New Reformation.