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

Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,- The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.

For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.

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

The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails.

True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd; Something whose truth convinced at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind. As shades more sweetly recommend the light, So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.

Coffee which makes the politician wise, and see through all things with his half-shut eyes.