Alexander Pope

There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something read more

There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.

Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see: That mercy I to others show, read more

Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see: That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.

Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?
Admires the read more

Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?
Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings?
Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?

Fondly we think we honor merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

Fondly we think we honor merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.