“Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind, The lover and the love of human kind, Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear, Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.”—­Pope.

    “O Freedom! sovereign boon of Heav’n,
    Great charter, with our being given;
    For which the patriot and the sage
    Have plann’d, have bled thro’ ev’ry age!”—­Mallet.

LESSON VI.—­VERSE.

   “Am I to set my life upon a throw,
    Because a bear is rude and surly? No.”—­Cowper.

    “Poor, guiltless I! and can I choose but smile,
    When every coxcomb knows me by my style?”—­Pope.

    “Remote from man, with God he pass’d his days,
    Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.”—­Parnell.

    “These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power;
    Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain.”—­Thomson.

    “What ho! thou genius of the clime, what ho! 
    Liest thou asleep beneath these hills of snow?”—­Dryden.

    “What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? 
    Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself.”—­Shak.

    “Then palaces and lofty domes arose;
    These for devotion, and for pleasure those.”—­Blackmore.

    “’Tis very dangerous, tampering with a muse;
    The profit’s small, and you have much to lose.”—­Roscommon.

    “Lucretius English’d! ’t was a work might shake
    The power of English verse to undertake.”—­Otway.

    “The best may slip, and the most cautious fall;
    He’s more than mortal, that ne’er err’d at all.”—­Pomfret.

    “Poets large souls heaven’s noblest stamps do bear,
    Poets, the watchful angels’ darling care.”—­Stepney.

    “Sorrow breaks reasons, and reposing hours;
    Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.”—­Shak.

    “Nor then the solemn nightingale ceas’d warbling.”—­Milton.

    “And O, poor hapless nightingale, thought I,
    How sweet thou singst, how near the deadly snare!”—­Id.

    “He calls for famine, and the meagre fiend
    Blows mildew from between his shrivell’d lips.”—­Cowper.

    “If o’er their lives a refluent glance they cast,
    Theirs is the present who can praise the past.”—­Shenstone.

    “Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
    Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.”—­Pope.