The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove, On which the fabric of our world depends, One link dissolved, the whole creation ends.
So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.
Give us enough but with a sparing hand.
Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.
Happy the innocent whose equal thoughts are free from anguish as they are from faults.