O Luxury! Thou Curst By Heaven's Decree!

For Just Experience Tells, In Every Soil, That Those That Think Must Govern Those That Toil.

Sweet Was The Sound, When Oft, At Evening's Close, Up Yonder Hill The Village Murmur Rose; There As I Passed, With Careless Steps And Slow, The Mingling Notes Came Soften'd From Below; The Swain Responsive As The Milkmaid Sung, The Sober Herd That Low'd To Meet Their Young; The Noisy Geese That Gabbled O'er The Pool, The Playful Children Just Let Loose From School; The Watch-dog's Voice That Bay'd The Whispering Wind, And The Loud Laugh That Spoke The Vacant Mind; These All In Sweet Confusion Sought The Shade, And Fill'd Each Pause The Nightingale Had Made.

Creation's Heir, The World, The World Is Mine!

In Two Opposite Opinions, If One Be Perfectly Reasonable, The Other Can't Be Perfectly Right.

Who Pepper'd The Highest Was Surest To Please.