Read Homer once, and you can read no more

Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature’s chief masterpiece is writing well.

There's no such thing in Nature; and you'll draw A faultless monster which the world ne’er saw.

No book exists, however bad, From which some good may not be had.

This book for men alone is meant, Book-worms, or bibliophiles anent, Of solid mind, of serious bent, On curious, hidden books intent, On odd research and learning.

When I survey the bright Celestial sphere; So rich with jewels hung, that Night Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:My soul her wings doth spread And heavenward flies, Th' Almighty's mysteries to read

For him delicious flavors dwell In books as in old Muscatel.