Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear; Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.

But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise, Whom age, and long experience render wise.

Nor Fame I slight, nor her favors call.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?