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.
Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow,
Led thro' a said variety of woe:
Now warm in read more
Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow,
Led thro' a said variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung.
In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung.
We conquered France, but felt our captive's charms,
Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms.
We conquered France, but felt our captive's charms,
Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms.
