Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.

Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.

Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.