Some Have At First For Wits, Then

Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams And Fables Of The Sky.

Hope Humbly Then; With Trembling Pinions Soar; Wait The Great Teacher, Death, And God Adore; What Future Bliss He Gives Not Thee To Know, But Gives That Hope To Be Thy Blessing Now.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows, And The Smooth Stream In Smoother Numbers Flows; But When Loud Surges Lash The Sounding Shore, The Hoarse Rough Verse Should Like The Torrent Roar. When Ajax Strives Some Rock's Vast Weight To Throw, The Line Too Labours, And The Words Move Slow: Not So When Swift Camilla Scours The Plain, Flies O'er Th' Unbending Corn, And Skims Along The Main.

True Friendship's Laws Are By This Rule Express'd, Welcome The Coming, Speed The Parting Guest.

Reason, However Able, Cool At Best, Cares Not For Service, Or But Serves When Prest, Stays Till We Call, And Then Not Often Near.