Riches Have Wings, And Grandeur Is A

Unless A Love Of Virtue Light The Flame, Satire Is, More Than Those He Brands, To Blame; He Hides Behind A Magisterial Air He Own Offences, And Strips Others' Bare.

Restraining Prayer, We Cease To Fight; Prayer Keeps The Christian's Armor Bright; And Satan Trembles When He Sees The Weakest Saint Upon His Knees.

A Moral, Sensible, And Well-bred Manwill Not Affront Me, And No Other Can.

Where Penury Is Felt The Thought Is Chain'd, And Sweet Colloquial Pleasures Are But Few.

And Hast Thou Sworn On Every Slight Pretence, Till Perjuries Are Common As Bad Pence, While Thousands, Careless Of The Damning Sin, Kiss The Book's Outside, Who Ne'er Look'd Within?