Who Friendship With A Knave Hath Made,

The Careful Insect 'midst His Works I View, Now From The Flowers Exhaust The Fragrant Dew, With Golden Treasures Load His Little Thighs, And Steer His Distant Journey Through The Skies.

If With Me You'd Fondly Stray Over The Hills And Far Away.

There Is No Dependence That Can Be Sure But A Dependence Upon One's Self.

Here Shock, The Pride Of All His Kind, Is Laid, Who Fawned Like Man, But Ne'er Like Man Betrayed.

Can Love Be Controll'd By Advice?