To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.

Men should press forward, in fame's glorious chase; Nobles look backward, and so lose the race.

Creation sleeps! 'T is as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause,- An awful pause! prophetic of her end.

Who gives an empire, by the gift defeats All end of giving; and procures contempt Instead of gratitude.

A God all mercy is a God unjust.

The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.