A Joke's A Very Serious Thing.

Tis Mighty Easy O'er A Glass Of Wine On Vain Refinements Vainly To Refine, To Laugh At Poverty In Plenty's Reign, To Boast Of Apathy When Out Of Pain, And In Each Sentence, Worthy Of The Schools, Varnish'd With Sophistry, To Deal Out Rules Most Fit For Practice, But For One Poor Fault That Into Practice They Can Ne'er Be Brought.

Who All In Raptures Their Own Works Rehearse, And Drawl Out Measur'd Prose, Which They Call Verse.

Nature, Through All Her Works, In Great Degree, Borrows A Blessing From Variety. Music Itself Her Needful Aid Requires To Rouse The Soul, And Wake Our Dying Fires.

By Different Methods Different Men Excel, But Where Is He Who Can Do All Things Well?

No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In The Air.