Sweet Auburn, Loveliest Village Of The Plain.

Who, Born For The Universe, Narrow'd His Mind, And To Party Gave Up What Was Meant For Mankind; Though Fraught With All Learning, Yet Straining His Throat To Persuade Tommy Townshend To Lend Him A Vote. Who Too Deep For His Hearers Still Went On Refining, And Thought Of Convincing While They Thought Of Dining: Though Equal To All Things, For All Things Unfit; Too Nice For A Statesman, Too Proud For A Wit.

Of Praise A Mere Glutton, He Swallow'd What Came, And The Puff A Dunce, He Mistook It For Fame; Till His Relish Grown Callous, Almost To Displease, Who Pepper'd The Highest Was Surest To Please.

If The Soul Be Happily Disposed, Every Thing Becomes Capable Of Affording Entertainment, And Distress Will Almost Want A Name.

The Polite Of Every Country Seem To Have But One Character. A Gentleman Of Sweden Differs But Little, Except In Trifles, From One Of Any Other Country. It Is Among The Vulgar We Are To Find Those Distinctions Which Characterize A People.

If We Do Not Find Happiness In The Present Moment, In What Shall We Find It?