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Parents, to their offspring blind,
Consult nor parts, nor turn of mind;
But, ev'n in infancy, decree
What this, what t'other son shall be.
Praise is only praise when well addressed.
Praising all alike, is praising none.
Pride is increased by ignorance; those assume the most who know the least.
Shadow owes its birth to light.
She lik'd his soothing lutes, his presents more,
And granted kisses, but would grant no more.
Such is the country maiden's fright,
When first a red-coat is in sight;
Behind the door she hides her face;
Next time at distance eyes the lace.
Sure men were born to lie, and women, to believe them.
Sweet as refreshing dews or summer showers,
To the long parching thirst of drooping flowers;
Grateful as fanning gales to fainting swains
And soft as trickling balm to bleeding pains
Such are thy words.
That man must daily wiser grow,
Whose search is bent himself to know.
The bloom of young desire and purple light of love.
The comfortable estate of widowhood is the only hope that keeps up a wife's spirits.
The coquettes of both sexes are self-lovers, and that is a love no other whatever can dispossess.
The glorious Author of the universe,
Who reins the winds, gives the vast ocean bounds,
And circumscribes the floating worlds their rounds!
The healthy huntsman, with a cheerful horn,
Summons the dogs and greets the dappled Morn.
The jocund thunder wakes the enliven'd hounds,
They rouse from sleep, and answer sounds for sounds.
The lion is beyond dispute
Allow'd the most majestic brute;
His valor and his generous mind
Prove him superior of his kind.
The man to Jove his suit preferr'd;
He begg'd a wife; his prayer was heard.
Jove wonder'd at his bold addressing:
For how precarious is the blessing!
The man who, with undaunted toils
Sails unknown seas to unknown soils,
With various wonders feasts his sight;
What stranger wonders does he write!
We read, and in description view
Creatures which Adam never knew:
For, when we risk no contradiction
It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.
The smallest speck is seen on snow.
The vain coquette each suit disdains,
And glories in her lover's pains;
With age she fades--each lover flies,
Contemn'd, forlorn, she pines and dies.
They most assume, who know the least.
Those, who in quarrels interpose,
Must often wipe a bloody nose.
Thus, when the villain crams his chest,
Gold is the canker of the breast;
'Tis avarice, insolence, and pride,
And every shocking vice beside:--
But when to virtuous hands 'tis given,
It blesses, like the dews of heaven:
Like heaven, it hears the orphans' cries,
And wipes the tears from widows' eyes.
Titles and profit I resign,
The post of honor shall be mine.
To all apparent beauties blind,
Each blemish strikes an envious mind.
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