There Is Nothing Wanting To Make All

Find, If You Can, In What You Cannot Change. Manners With Fortunes, Humours Turn With Climes, Tenets With Books, And Principles With Times.

Leave Not A Foot Of Verse, A Foot Of Stone, A Page, A Grave, That They Can Call Their Own; But Spread, My Sons, Your Glory Thin Or Thick, On Passive Paper, Or On Solid Brick.

How Instinct Varies In The Grov'ling Swine.

Absent Or Dead, Still Let A Friend Be Dear.

Satire's My Weapon, But I'm Too Discreet To Run Amuck, And Tilt At All I Meet.