O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.

No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.

The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon where in the flat sea sunk.

O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!

But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, 4 to perplex and dash Maturest counsels.

Wealth and honours, which most men pursue, easily change masters; they desert to the side which excels in virtue, industry, and endurance of toil, and they abandon the slothful.