Robert Pollok

Friend, for your epitaph I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be read more

Friend, for your epitaph I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be believed,
The other never read.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair.

Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,
And beauty draws us with a single hair.

He sat among his bags, and, with a look
Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor
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He sat among his bags, and, with a look
Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor
Away unalmed; and midst abundance died--
Sorest of evils!--died of utter want.

Get wealth and power, if possible by grace,
If not, by any means, get wealth and place.

Get wealth and power, if possible by grace,
If not, by any means, get wealth and place.