Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.

I should be very willing to redress men wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes, had not Cervantes, in that all too true tale of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.

Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes; But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.

Romances paint at full length people's wooing. But only give a bust of marriages.

The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses that pull, Each tugs in a different way And the greatest of all is John Bull!

I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?