The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.
We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.
Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?