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                                   The French Peasant
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When things are done, and past recalling 'Tis folly then to fret or cry: Prop up the rotten house that's falling, But when it's down, even let it lie. O patience, patience! thou art a jewel, And like all jewels hard to find. 'Mongst all the various men you see, Examine every mother's son, You'll find them all in this agree, To make ten troubles out of one. When passions rage, they heap on fuel, And give their reason to the wind, Hark! don't you hear the general cry? Whose trouble ever equall'd mine! How readily each standes by Replies, with captious echo, Mine, Sure from our clime this discord springs: