No Creature Smarts So Little As A

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.

From Nature's Chain Whatever Link You Strike, Tenth Or Ten Thousandth, Breaks The Chain Alike.

How Shall I Lose The Sin, Yet Keep The Sense, And Love The Offender, Yet Detest The Offence?

Give Me Again My Hollow Tree A Crust Of Bread, And Liberty!

Some Judge Of Authors' Names, Not Works, And Then Nor Praise Nor Blame The Writings, But The Men.