The Life Of A Scholar Seldom Abounds

Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog And In That Town A Dog Was Found, As Many Dogs There Be, Both Mongrel, Puppy, Whelp, And Hound, And Curs Of Low Degree.

We Had No Revolutions To Fear, Nor Fatigues To Undergo; All Our Adventures Were By The Fireside, And All Our Migrations From The Blue Bed To The Brown.

The Nakedness Of The Indigent World May Be Clothed From The Trimmings Of The Vain.

If One Wishes To Become Rich They Must Appear Rich.

And As A Bird Each Fond Endearment Tries To Tempt Its New-fledg'd Offspring To The Skies, He Tried Each Art, Reprov'd Each Dull Delay, Allur'd To Brighter Worlds, And Led The Way.