“How happy he, who free from careThe rage of courts, and noise of towns; Contented breathes his native air,In his own grounds”

“Happy the man, whose wish and careA few paternal acres bound,Content to breathe his native airIn his own ground.”

“Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescrib'd, their present state; From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer Being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy Reason, would he skip and play? Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv'n, That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n; Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall.”

“Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,In pleasing memory of all he stole.”

“Our judgments, like our watches, nonego just alike, yet each believes his own”

“And die of nothing but a rage to live”

“Averse alike to flatter, or offend;Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.”