Every Want That Stimulates The

Want Of Prudence Is Too Frequently The Want Of Virtue.

The Watch-dog's Voice That Bay'd The Whispering Wind, And The Loud Laugh That Spoke The Vacant Mind.

The Hawthorn Bush, With Seats Beneath The Shade, For Talking Age And Whispering Lovers Made.

What If In Scotland's Wilds We Viel'd Our Head, Where Tempests Whistle Round The Sordid Bed; Where The Rug's Two-fold Use We Might Display, By Night A Blanket, And A Plaid By Day.

To Aim At Excellence, Our Reputation, And Friends, And All Must Be Ventured; To Aim At The Average We Run No Risk And Provide Little Service.