There Is A Majesty In Simplicity.

Tis Thus The Mercury Of Man Is Fix'd, Strong Grows The Virtue With His Nature Mix'd.

If, Presume Not To God To Scan; The Proper Study Of Mankind Is Man. Plac'd On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise, And Rudely Great.

Words Are Like Leaves; And Where They Most Abound, Much Fruit Of Sense Beneath Is Rarely Found.

Some Have At First For Wits, Then Poets Passed, Turned Critics Next, And Proved Plain Fools At Last.

The Dances Ended, All The Fairy Train For Pinks And Daisies Search'd The Flow'ry Plain.