Riches Have Wings, And Grandeur Is A

Folly Ends Where Genuine Hope Begins.

Misery Still Delights To Trace Its Semblance In Another's Case.

A Man Renowned For Repartee Will Seldom Scruple To Make Free With Friendship's Finest Feeling, Will Thrust A Dagger At Your Breast, And Say He Wounded You In Jest, By Way Of Balm For Healing.

When From Soft Love Proceeds The Deep Distress, Ah! Why Forbid The Willing Tears To Flow?

Where Penury Is Felt The Thought Is Chain'd, And Sweet Colloquial Pleasures Are But Few.