Oliver Goldsmith

How blest is he who crowns in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease.

How blest is he who crowns in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease.

The canvas glow'd beyond ev'n nature warm;
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.

The canvas glow'd beyond ev'n nature warm;
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.

There is no arguing with him, for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end read more

There is no arguing with him, for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.

Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength to
prevent, it seldom has justice enough to read more

Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength to
prevent, it seldom has justice enough to accuse.

Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.

Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.