The Dances Ended, All The

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense.

The Grave Unites; Where E'en The Great Find Rest, And Blended Lie Th' Oppressor And Th' Oppressed!

For Forms Of Faith Let Graceless Zealots Fight; His Can't Be Wrong Whose Life Is In The Right.

Now Warm In Love, Now With'ring In My Bloom Lost In A Convent's Solitary Gloom!

I Am His Highness' Dog At Kew; Pray Tell Me, Sir, Whose Dog Are You?