Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.

No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.

And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.

Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.