O peace! how many wars were waged in thy name.

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

I as little fear that God will damn a man that has charity, as I hope that the priests can save one who has not.

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?

Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!

Some old men, continually praise the time of their youth. In fact, you would almost think that there were no fools in their days, but unluckily they themselves are left as an example.

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise; Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.