To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul,

The Learned Is Happy, Nature To Explore; The Fool Is Happy, That He Knows No More.

Chaste To Her Husband, Frank To All Beside, A Teeming Mistress, But A Barren Bride.

Why Did I Write? Whose Sin To Me Unknown Dipt Me In Ink, My Parents', Or My Own? As Yet A Child, Nor Yet A Fool To Fame, I Lisp'd In Numbers, For The Numbers Came.

The Life Of A Wit Is A Warfare Upon Earth.

A Patriot Is A Fool In Ev'ry Age.