Alexander Pope

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
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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.

Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.

Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.

Is not absence death to those who love?

Is not absence death to those who love?

Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal,
O'er head and ears plunge for the common weal?
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Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal,
O'er head and ears plunge for the common weal?
Or rob Rome's ancient geese of all their glories,
And cackling save the monarchies of Tories?