Oh, Poverty Parts Good Company.

Here Eglantine Embalm'd The Air, Hawthorne And Hazel Mingled There; The Primrose Pale, And Violet Flower, Found In Each Cliff A Narrow Bower; Fox-glove And Nightshade, Side By Side, Emblems Of Punishment And Pride, Group'd Their Dark Hues With Every Stain The Weather-beaten Crags Retain.

Each Must Drain His Share Of Pleasure, Share Of Pain.

He That Would Soothe Sorrow Must Not Argue On The Vanity Of The Most Deceitful Hopes.

Woe To The Youth Whom Fancy Gains, Winning From Reason's Hand The Reins, Pity And Woe! For Such A Mind Is Soft Contemplative, And Kind.

Steady Of Heart And Stout Of Hand.