God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
My soul is sick with every day's report of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting.
Great offices will have great talents.