Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.

True politeness consists in being easy one's self, and in making every one about one as easy as one can.

What bosom beast not in his country's cause?

So perish all who do the like again.

Many men have been capable of doing a wise thing, more a cunning thing, but very few a generous thing.

Be thou the first true merit to befriend, his praise is lost who stays till all commend.