1721-1770.
Epistle to Curio.
The man forget not, though in rags he lies,
And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
NATHANIEL COTTON.
1721-1788.
The Fireside. St. 3.
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam:
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut—our home.
St. 13.
Thus hand in hand through life we'll go;
Its checkered paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread.