John Armstrong (poet)

“'Tis not for mortals always to be blest.”

“How happy he whose toilHas o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'dA pleasing lassitude; he not in vainInvokes the gentle Deity of dreams.His pow'rs the most voluptuously dissolveIn soft repose; on him the balmy dewsOf Sleep with double nutriment descend.”

“This restless worldIs full of chances, which by habit's powerTo learn to bear is easier than to shun.”

“Weak withering age no rigid law forbids,With frugal nectar, smooth and slow with balm,The sapless habit daily to bedew,And give the hesitating wheels of lifeGliblier to play.”

“There are, while human miseries abound,A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth,Without one fool or flatterer at your board,Without one hour of sickness or disgust.”