Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
How blessings brighten as they take their flight.
What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
Old men love novelties; the last arriv'd Still pleases best; the youngest steals their smiles.