No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In

Wit, Who Never Once Forgave A Brother, Shall Forgive A Dunce.

Most Of Those Evils We Poor Mortals Know From Doctors And Imagination Flow.

Constant Attention Wears The Active Mind, Blots Out Our Pow'rs, And Leaves A Blank Behind.

Wherever Waves Can Roll, And Winds Can Blow.

Little Do Such Men Know The Toil, The Pains, The Daily, Nightly Racking Of The Brains, To Range The Thoughts, The Matter To Digest, To Cull Fit Phrases, And Reject The Rest.