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Praise Him, each savage furious beast That on His stores do daily feast And you tame slaves, of the laborious plough, Your weary knees to your Creator bow.

Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon

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Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon
Age: 48 †
Born: 1637
Born: January 1
Died: 1685
Died: January 18
Author
Poet
Worship
Weary
Laborious
Beast
Tame
Knees
Feast
Stores
Furious
Creator
Savage
Daily
Savages
Slave
Bows
Praise
Slaves
Plough

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Often try what weight you can support, And what your shoulders are too weak to bear.
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You gain your point if your industrious art can make unusual words easy.
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Those things which now seem frivolous and slight, Will be of serious consequence to you, When they have made you once ridiculous.
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Words are like leaves some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.
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Truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
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Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.
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The multitude is always wrong.
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We weep and laugh, as we see others do.
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The first great work (a task performed by few) Is that yourself may to yourself be true.
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Let us not write at a loose rambling rate, in hope the world will wink at all our faults.
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Sound judgment is the ground of writing well.
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Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
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Pride (of all others the most dang'rous fault) Proceeds from want of sense, or want of thought.
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The men, who labour and digest things most, Will be much apter to despond than boast For if your author be profoundly good, 'Twill cost you dear before he's understood.
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Words once spoken can never be recalled.
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Whatsoever contradicts my sense, I hate to see, and never can believe.
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Choose an author as you would a friend.
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I will not quarrel with a slight mistake, Such as our nature's frailty may excuse.
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Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment.
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Men still had faults, and men will have them still He that hath none, and lives as angels do, Must be an angel.
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