But Monument Themselves Memorials Need.

Beauties, When Disposed To Sleep, Should From The Eye Of Keen Inspector Keep: The Lovely Nymph Who Would Her Swain Surprise, May Close Her Mouth, But Not Conceal Her Eyes; Sleep From The Fairest Face Some Beauty Takes, And All The Homely Features Homelier Makes.

Lo! The Poor Toper Whose Untutored Sense, Sees Bliss In Ale, And Can With Wine Dispense; Whose Head Proud Fancy Never Taught To Steer, Beyond The Muddy Ecstasies Of Beer.

Old Peter Grimes Made Fishing His Employ; His Wife He Cabined With Him And His Boy, And Seemed That Life Laborious To Enjoy.

Oh How The Passions, Insolent And Strong, Bear Our Weak Minds Their Rapid Course Along; Make Us The Madness Of Their Will Obey; Then Die And Leave Us To Our Griefs As Prey!

Who Often Reads, Will Sometimes Wish To Write.