E'en Sunday Shines No Sabbath Day To

Some To Conceit Alone Their Taste Confine, And Glittering Thoughts Struck Out At Ev'ry Line; Pleas'd With A Work Where Nothing's Just Or Fit; One Glaring Chaos And Wild Heap Of Wit.

Age And Want Sit Smiling At The Gate.

Fondly We Think We Honor Merit Then, When We But Praise Ourselves In Other Men.

Our Grandsire, Adam, Ere Of Eve Possesst, Alone, And E'en In Paradise Unblest, With Mournful Looks The Blissful Scenes Survey'd, And Wander'd In The Solitary Shade. The Maker Say, Took Pity, And Bestow'd Woman, The Last, The Best Reserv'd Of God.

How Index-learning Turns No Student Pale, Yet Holds The Eel Of Science By The Tail!