Alexander Pope

Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm.

Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm.

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!

To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!

No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n;
But such plain read more

No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n;
But such plain roofs as Piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.

Constant at Church and 'Change; his gains were sure;
His givings rare, save farthings to the poor.

Constant at Church and 'Change; his gains were sure;
His givings rare, save farthings to the poor.