Time's stern tide, with cold Oblivion's wave, Shall soon dissolve each fair, each fading charm.
Let me be content with being happy, without sighing that I am not distinguished.
Suffer not thy wrongs to shroud thy fate, But turn, my soul, to blessings which remain.
If I had girls to educate I would not have them learn both music and drawing.
Though just biographical record will touch the failings of the good and the eminent with tenderness.