Maxioms by Alexander Pope
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold--
For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;
But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
All Nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
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All Nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good;
And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, Whatever is is right.
And soften'd sounds along the waters die:
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.
And soften'd sounds along the waters die:
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.
Manners with Fortunes, Humours turn with Climes,
Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times.
Manners with Fortunes, Humours turn with Climes,
Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times.
