Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be, In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.

Teach me to feel another's woe, to hide the fault I see, that mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me.

Is there a parson much bemused in beer, a maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, a clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, who pens a stanza when he should engross?

If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, O, teach my heart To find that better way!

While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!" "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose.

Time conquers all, and we must time obey.

Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.