They Say Women And Music Should Never

But Me, Not Destined Such Delights To Share, My Prime Of Life In Wandering Spent And Care; Impell'd, With Steps Unceasing, To Pursue Some Fleeting Good, That Mocks Me With The View That, Like The Circle Bounding Earth And Skies, Allures From Far, Yet, As I Follow, Flies; My Fortune Leads To Traverse Reams Alone, And Find No Spot Of All The World My Own.

Blest That Abode, Where Want And Pain Repair, And Every Stranger Finds A Ready Chair.

The Little Mind Who Loves Itself, Will Wr'te And Think With The Vulgar; But The Great Mind Will Be Bravely Eccentric, And Scorn The Beaten Road, From Universal Benevolence.

True Genius Walks Along A Line, And, Perhaps, Our Greatest Pleasure Is In Seeing It So Often Near Falling, Without Being Ever Actually Down.

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.