Sometimes virtue starves while vice is fed.

A family is but too often a commonwealth of malignants.

Time conquers all, and we must time obey.

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.

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

Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.

Happy the man whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, content to breathe his native air in his own ground.