Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow: Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.

Oh, blindness to the future! kindly giv'n, That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven.

One self-approving hour whole years outweighs.

What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.

Consult the genius of the place, that paints as you plant, and as you work.

What some call health, if purchased by perpetual anxiety about diet, isn't much better than tedious disease.