In vain we plant, we build, our stores increase, If conscience roots up all our inward peace. - George Granville

Nature indulgent, provident, and kind,
In all things that excell some use design'd;
The radiant sun […]
Sends from above ten thousand blessings down,
Nor is he set so high for show alone;
His beams, reviving with auspicious fire,
Freely we all enjoy what all admire.
The moon and stars, those faithful guides of night,
Are plac'd to help, not entertain, the sight.
Plants, fruits, and flow'rs, the fertile fields produce,
Not for vain ornament, but wholesome use;
Health they restore, and nourishment they give,
We see with pleasure, but we taste to live.

So many shapes have women for deceit,
That every man's a fool, when we think fit.

Of all pains, the greatest pain
Is to love, and love in vain.