Swift Was The Race, But Short The

To Take Up Half On Trust, And Half To Try, Name It Not Faith But Bungling Bigotry.

At Home The Hateful Names Of Parties Cease, And Factious Souls Are Wearied Into Peace.

But Wild Ambition Loves To Slide, Not Stand, And Fortune's Ice Prefers To Virtue's Land.

Pity Melts The Mind To Love.

And Plenty Makes Us Poor.