"Ah ne'er so dire a Thirst of Glory boast, Nor in the Critick let the Man be lost! Good-Nature and Good-Sense must ever join; To err is human, to forgive divine."

"All seems Infected that th' Infected spy, As all looks yellow to the Jaundic'd Eye."

"Learn then what morals critics ought to show, For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know."

"Be silent always when you doubt your sense."

"And make each day a critic on the last."

"'Tis not enough your Counsel still be true, Blunt Truths more Mischief than nice Falsehoods do; Men must be taught as if you taught them not; And Things unknown propos'd as Things forgot."

"The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails."

"Most authors steal their works, or buy; Garth did not write his own Dispensary."

"No Place so Sacred from such Fops is barr'd, Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Church-yard: Nay, fly to Altars; there they'll talk you dead; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

"But where's the man who counsel can bestow, Still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know?"

"Led by the light of the Mæonian star."

"Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, The learn'd reflect on what before they knew."

"Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend."

"Yet not let each gay turn thy rapture move; For fools admire, but men of sense approve."

"At ev'ry Trifle scorn to take Offence, That always shows Great Pride, or Little Sense."

"True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense; The sound must seem an echo to the sense. 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."

"Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

"As some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire; While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line."

"In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, Alike fantastic if too new or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside."

"Such labored nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearned, and make the learned smile."

"Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found."

"True wit is nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed."

"Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be."

"'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all."

"Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!"

"A little Learning is a dang'rous Thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring: There shallow Draughts intoxicate the Brain, And drinking largely sobers us again."

"Trust not your self; but your Defects to know, Make use of ev'ry Friend — and ev'ry Foe."

"Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind; What the weak head with strongest bias rules, — Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools."

"A prudent Chief not always must display His Pow'rs in equal Ranks, and fair Array, But with th' Occasion and the Place comply, Conceal his Force, nay seem sometimes to Fly. Those oft are Stratagems which Errors seem, Nor is it Homer Nods, but We that Dream."

"Some Figures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear, Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their Light, or Place, Due Distance reconciles to Form and Grace."

"From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art."

"Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men."

"In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies; All quit their spere, and rush into the skies! Pride still is aiming at the blessed abodes, Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods. Aspiring to be Gods if Angels fell, Aspiring to be Angels men rebel."

"But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company."

"Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way; Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n, Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heav'n."

"Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come."

"Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurled, And now a bubble burst, and now a world."

"Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood."

"Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescrib'd, their present state."

"'T is but a part we see, and not a whole."

"Presumptuous man! the reason wouldst thou find, Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind? First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess, Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less!"

"Say first, of God above or man below, What can we reason but from what we know?"

"Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise: Laugh where we must, be candid where we can; But vindicate the ways of God to man."

"Together let us beat this ample field, Try what the open, what the covert yield."

"Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies."

"In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung."