Ingratitude's a weed of every clime, It thrives too fast at first, but fades in time.
Some fell by laudanum, and some by steel, and death in ambush lay in every pill.
As distant prospects please us, but when near We find but desert rocks and fleeting air
I see the right, and I approve it too,Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.
Where billows never break, nor tempests roar.
Dear gentlemen, let me die a natural death.
Dissensions, like small streams, are first begun, Scarce seen they rise, but gather as they run: So lines that from their parallel decline, More they proceed the more they still disjoin.
Eternal Spring, with smiling Verdue here Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful year . . The Rose still blushes, and the vi'lets blow.
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