Alexander Pope

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.

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic read more

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame,
And poet's vision of eternal fame.

Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

But just disease to luxury succeeds,
And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.

But just disease to luxury succeeds,
And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.