Oliver Goldsmith

Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
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Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
Till his relish grown callous, almost to displease,
Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.

How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
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How small of all that human hearts endure,
That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!
Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find.
With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.

This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant
jade on a journey.

This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant
jade on a journey.

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the read more

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.

That dire disease, whose ruthless power
Withers the beauty's transient flower.

That dire disease, whose ruthless power
Withers the beauty's transient flower.