What frenzy dictates, jealousy believes
Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.
Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view.
Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.
The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
Learning by study must be won; 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.