The dog, to gain his private ends, Went mad, and bit the man.
Oliver Goldsmith (1728 - 1774)
Source: Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog
Contributed by: Zaady
The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died.
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
Source: The Traveller
And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam,- His first, best country ever is at home.
Hope, like the gleaming taper's light, Adorns and cheers our way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.
Source: The Captivity
To the last moment of his breath, On hope the wretch relies; And even the pang preceding death Bids expectation rise.
Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.
His best companions, innocence and health; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
Source: The Deserted Village
Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel.
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