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

The good must merit God's peculiar care; But who but God can tell us who they are?

Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.

To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.

One science only will one genius fit; so vast is art, so narrow human wit.

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.

Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.