Not Always Actions Show The

Virtue She Finds Too Painful An Endeavour, Content To Dwell In Decencies For Ever.

At Length Corruption, Like A General Flood (so Long By Watchful Ministers Withstood), Shall Deluge All; And Avarice, Creeping On, Spread Like A Low-born Mist, And Blot The Sun.

Whate'er The Talents, Or Howe'er Designed, We Hang One Jingling Padlock On The Mind.

Ah! What Avails It Me The Flocks To Keep, Who Lost My Heart While I Preserv'd My Sheep.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.