If the best man's faults were written on his forehead, he would draw his hat over his eyes.
One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
We frolic while 'tis May.