To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense.

The Danger Chiefly Lies In Acting Well; No Crime's So Great As Daring To Excel.

Childhood, Who Like An April Morn Appears, Sunshine And Rain, Hopes Clouded O'er With Fears.

The Scots Are Poor, Cries Surly English Pride; True Is The Charge, Nor By Themselves Denied. Are They Not Then In Strictest Reason Clear, Who Wisely Come To Mend Their Fortunes Here?

He Mouths A Sentence As Curs Mouth A Bone.

Constant Attention Wears The Active Mind, Blots Out Our Pow'rs, And Leaves A Blank Behind.