Wonder is involuntary praise.

Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.

A man I knew who lived upon a smile, And well it fed him; he look'd plump and fair, While rankest venom foam'd through every vein.

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live."