Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.

Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart. One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas; And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels. In parts superior what advantage lies? Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise? 'T is but to know how little can be known; To see all others' faults, and feel our own.

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

Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.