Maxioms by Alexander Pope
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When read more
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthened every shade.
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Who pants for glory, finds but short repose;
A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
Who pants for glory, finds but short repose;
A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
Where order in variety we read more
Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
Where order in variety we see,
And where tho' all things differ, all agree.
And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.
And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.
