If You Mean To Profit,

When Fiction Rises Pleasing To The Eye, Men Will Believe, Because They Love The Lie; But Truth Herself, If Clouded With A Frown, Must Have Some Solemn Proof To Pass Her Down.

To Copy Beauty Forfeits All Pretense To Fame; To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense

Wherever Waves Can Roll, And Winds Can Blow.

Constant Attention Wears The Active Mind, Blots Out Our Pow'rs, And Leaves A Blank Behind.

No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In The Air.