Laws Grind The Poor, And Rich Men

O Friendship! Thou Fond Soother Of The Human Breast, To Thee We Fly In Every Calamity; To Thee The Wretched Seek For Succor; On Thee The Care-tired Son Of Misery Fondly Relies; From Thy Kind Assistance The Unfortunate Always Hopes Relief, And May Be Sure Of--disappointment.

Whichever Way We Look The Prospect Is Disagreeable. Behind, We Have Left Pleasures We Shall Never Enjoy, And Therefore Regret; And Before, We See Pleasures Which We Languish To Possess, And Are Consequently Uneasy Till We Possess Them.

The Nakedness Of The Indigent World May Be Clothed From The Trimmings Of The Vain.

All That Philosophy Can Teach Is To Be Stubborn Or Sullen Under Misfortunes.

While Resignation Gently Slopes Away, And All His Prospects Brightening To The Last, His Heaven Commences Ere The World Be Past.