Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?

The dances ended, all the fairy train For pinks and daisies search'd the flow'ry plain.

Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.

Did some more sober critics come abroad? If wrong, I smil'd; if right, I kiss'd the rod.

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through Nature up to Nature's God.

Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.

Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.