Who Taught That Heaven-directed Spire To Rise?

I As Little Fear That God Will Damn A Man That Has Charity, As I Hope That The Priests Can Save One Who Has Not.

Hope Humbly Then; With Trembling Pinions Soar; Wait The Great Teacher, Death, And God Adore; What Future Bliss He Gives Not Thee To Know, But Gives That Hope To Be Thy Blessing Now.

Yet Graceful Ease, And Sweetness Void Of Pride, Might Hide Her Faults, If Belles Had Faults To Hide: If To Her Share Some Female Errors Fall, Look On Her Face, And You'll Forget 'em All.

The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits Appear To Ripen.

I Think A Good Deal May Be Said To Extenuate The Fault Of Bad Poets. What We Call A Genius, Is Hard To Be Distinguish'd By A Man Himself, From A Strong Inclination: And If His Genius Be Ever So Great, He Can Not At First Discover It Any Other Way, Than By Giving Way To That Prevalent Propensity Which Renders Him The More Liable To Be Mistaken.