There Is A Majesty In Simplicity.

Is There A Parson Much Bemused In Beer, A Maudlin Poetess, A Rhyming Peer, A Clerk Foredoom'd His Father's Soul To Cross, Who Pens A Stanza When He Should Engross?

And Bear About The Mockery Of Woe To Midnight Dances And The Public Show.

There Still Remains To Mortify A Wit The Many-headed Monster Of The Pit.

Thus God And Nature Linked The Gen'ral Frame, And Bade Self-love And Social Be The Same.

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.