Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.

All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers; hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.

Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.

That, chang'd thro' all and yet in all the same, Great in the Earth as in th' Ætherial frame, Warms in the Sun, refreshes in the Breeze, Glows in the Stars, and blossoms in the Trees... Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part... Submit - in this, or any other Sphere, Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear. All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee; All Chance, Direction which thou canst not see; All Discord, Harmony not understood... All partial Evil, universal Good.

Every woman is at heart a rake.

Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.

The Physician, by the study and inspection of urine and ordure, approves himself in the science; and in like sort should our author accustom and exercise his imagination upon the dregs of nature.