What Nature Wants, Commodious Gold Bestows; 'tis

And Each Blasphemer Quite Escape The Rod, Because The Insult's Not On Man, But God?

Education Forms The Common Mind. Just As The Twig Is Bent, The Tree's Inclined.

Say, Will The Falcon, Stooping From Above, Smit With Her Varying Plumage, Spare The Dove? Admires The Jay The Insect's Gilded Wings? Or Hears The Hawk When Philomela Sings?

Fix'd Like A Plant On His Peculiar Spot, To Draw Nutrition, Propagate And Rot.

And You, My Critics! In The Chequer'd Shade, Admire New Light Thro' Holes Yourselves Have Made.