Trade's Proud Empire Hastes To Swift Decay.

Want Of Prudence Is Too Frequently The Want Of Virtue.

By Sports Like These Are All Their Cares Beguil'd; The Sports Of Children Satisfy The Child.

Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog And In That Town A Dog Was Found, As Many Dogs There Be, Both Mongrel, Puppy, Whelp, And Hound, And Curs Of Low Degree.

Measures, Not Men, Have Always Been My Mark.

Embosom'd In The Deep Where Holland Lies. Methinks Her Patient Sons Before Me Stand, Where The Broad Ocean Leans Against The Land.