Alexander Pope

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.]

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.

Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
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Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?

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.

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
In action faithful, and in honour clear;
Who broke read more

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
In action faithful, and in honour clear;
Who broke no promise, served no private end,
Who gained no title, and who lost no friend,
Ennobled by himself, by all approved,
And praised, unenvied, by the Muse he loved.