The Proud Will Sooner Lose Than Ask

Wherever Waves Can Roll, And Winds Can Blow.

The Oak, When Living, Monarch Of The Wood; The English Oak, Which, Dead, Commands The Flood.

Most Of Those Evils We Poor Mortals Know From Doctors And Imagination Flow.

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

The Villager, Born Humbly And Bred Hard, Content His Wealth, And Poverty His Guard, In Action Simply Just, In Conscience Clear, By Guilt Untainted, Undisturb'd By Fear, His Means But Scanty, And His Wants But Few, Labor His Business, And His Pleasure Too, Enjoys More Comforts In A Single Hour Than Ages Give The Wretch Condemn'd To Power.