Alexander Pope

The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.

The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.

Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?

Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
read more

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold--
For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

It is part of the cure to wish to be cured.
[Lat., Pars sanitatis velle sanari fruit.]

It is part of the cure to wish to be cured.
[Lat., Pars sanitatis velle sanari fruit.]