The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits

Where's The Man Who Counsel Can Bestow, Still Pleased To Teach, And Yet Not Proud To Know.

Where London's Column, Pointing At The Skies, Like A Tall Bully, Lifts The Head, And Lies.

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought, And Still Appears More Decent As More Suitable; A Vile Conceit In Pompous Words Express'd, Is Like A Clown In Regal Purple Dress'd.

Strength Of Mind Is Exercise, Not Rest.

The Villain's Censure Is Extorted Praise.