Never Elated While One Man's

I Would Not Be Like Those Authors, Who Forgive Themselves Some Particular Lines For The Sake Of A Whole Poem, And Vice Versa A Whole Poem For The Sake Of Some Particular Lines. I Believe No One Qualification Is So Likely To Make A Good Writer, As The Power Of Rejecting His Own Thoughts.

The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home, Rests And Expatiates In A Life To Come.

Unblemish'd Let Me Live Or Die Unknown; Oh, Grant An Honest Fame, Or Grant Me None!

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.

Dulness! Whose Good Old Cause I Yet Defend, With Whom My Muse Began, With Who Shall End.