In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fix'd: 't is fix'd as in a frost; contracted all, retiring to the breast; but strength of mind is exercise, not rest.

The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!

Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare; And beauty draws us with a single hair.

There should be, methinks, as little merit in loving a woman for her beauty as in loving a man for his prosperity; both being equally subject to change.

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.