Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!

On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, So wit is by politeness sharpest set; Their want of edge from their offence is seen, Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.

Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.

The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.

A death-bed's a detector of the heart.

Read nature; nature is a friend to truth.