New, Distant Scenes Of Endless

Count All Th' Advantage Prosperous Vice Attains, 'tis But What Virtue Flies From And Disdains: And Grant The Bad What Happiness They Would, One They Must Want--which Is, To Pass For Good.

Oh, Sons Of Earth! Attempt Ye Still To Rise. By Mountains Pil'd On Mountains To The Skies? Heav'n Still With Laughter The Vain Toil Surveys, And Buries Madmen In The Heaps They Raise.

Who Breaks A Butterfly On A Wheel?

To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul, Where No Carnation Fades.

Those Move Easiest Who Have Learn'd To Dance.