Who Taught That Heaven-directed Spire To Rise?

Health Consists With Temperance Alone.

A King May Be A Tool, A Thing Of Straw; But If He Serves To Frighten Our Enemies, And Secure Our Property, It Is Well Enough; A Scarecrow Is A Thing Of Straw, But It Protects The Corn.

Pleasures Are Ever In Our Hands Or Eyes; And When In Act They Cease, In Prospect Rise.

Good Sense, Which Only Is The Gift Of Heaven, And Though No Science, Fairly Worth The Seven.

Some To Conceit Alone Their Taste Confine, And Glittering Thoughts Struck Out At Ev'ry Line; Pleas'd With A Work Where Nothing's Just Or Fit; One Glaring Chaos And Wild Heap Of Wit.