Sometimes Virtue Starves While Vice Is Fed.

Court-virtues Bear, Like Gems, The Highest Rate, Born Where Heav'n Influence Scarce Can Penetrate. In Life's Low Vale, The Soil The Virtues Like, They Please As Beauties, Here As Wonders Strike.

Taste, That Eternal Wanderer, Which Flies From Head To Ears, And Now From Ears To Eyes.

In This Commonplace World Every One Is Said To Be Romantic Who Either Admires A Fine Thing Or Does One.

The Right Divine Of Kings To Govern Wrong.

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.