Unthought-of Frailties Cheat Us In The Wise.

Chaos Of Thought And Passion, All Confused; Still By Himself Abused Or Disabused; Created Half To Rise, And Half To Fall; Great Lord Of All Things, Yet A Prey To All; Sole Judge Of Truth, In Endless Error Hurled,- The Glory, Jest, And Riddle Of The World.

Who Ne'er Knew Joy But Friendship Might Divide,or Gave His Father Grief But When He Died.

A Youth Of Frolic, An Old Age Of Cards.

Where Grows?--where Grows It Not? If Vain Our Toil, We Ought To Blame The Culture, Not The Soil.

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.