Rich The Treasure, Sweet The Pleasure,- Sweet

Then We Upon Our Globe's Last Verge Shall Go, And View The Ocean Leaning On The Sky: From Thence Our Rolling Neighbours We Shall Know, And On The Lunar World Securely Pry.

Old As I Am, For Ladies' Love Unfit, The Power Of Beauty I Remember Yet.

Some Of Our Philosophizing Divines Have Too Much Exalted The Faculties Of Our Souls, When They Have Maintained That By Their Force Mankind Has Been Able To Find Out God.

Ever A Glutton, At Another's Cost, But In Whose Kitchen Dwells Perpetual Frost.

Ill Writers Are Usually The Sharpest Censors.