Praising all alike, is praising none.
So comes a reck'ning when the banquet's o'er, The dreadful reckn'ning, and men smile no more.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.
A Wolf eats sheep but now and then; Ten thousands are devour'd by men. An open foe may prove a curse, but a pretend friend is worse.
Were I laid on Greenland's Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass.