All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To

But See, The Shepherds Shun The Noonday Heat, The Lowing Herds To Murmuring Brooks Retreat, To Closer Shades The Panting Flocks Remove; Ye Gods! And Is There No Relief For Love?

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows.

Genius Creates, And Taste Preserves. Taste Is The Good Sense Of Genius; Without Taste, Genius Is Only Sublime Folly.

The Character Of Covetousness, Is What A Man Generally Acquires More Through Some Niggardliness Or Ill Grace In Little And Inconsiderable Things, Than In Expenses Of Any Consequence.