The Hog That Ploughs Not,

A Wise Physician, Skill'd Our Wounds To Heal, Is More Than Armies To The Public Weal.

Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams And Fables Of The Sky.

In Lazy Apathy Let Stoics Boast, Their Virtue Fix'd: 't Is Fix'd As In A Frost; Contracted All, Retiring To The Breast; But Strength Of Mind Is Exercise, Not Rest.

True Friendship's Laws Are By This Rule Express'd, Welcome The Coming, Speed The Parting Guest.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows, And The Smooth Stream In Smoother Numbers Flows; But When Loud Surges Lash The Sounding Shore, The Hoarse Rough Verse Should Like The Torrent Roar. When Ajax Strives Some Rock's Vast Weight To Throw, The Line Too Labours, And The Words Move Slow: Not So When Swift Camilla Scours The Plain, Flies O'er Th' Unbending Corn, And Skims Along The Main.