Alexander Pope

Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave,
Is emulation in the learn'd or brave.

Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave,
Is emulation in the learn'd or brave.

Here files of pins extend their shining rows,
Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux.

Here files of pins extend their shining rows,
Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux.

Fondly we think we honor merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

Fondly we think we honor merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his read more

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.

Who know but He, whose hand the lightning forms,
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms,
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Who know but He, whose hand the lightning forms,
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms,
Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind.