Alexander Pope

Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise.
By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies?
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Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise.
By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies?
Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.

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.

He that fights and runs away,
Will live to fight another day;
For he that runs may read more

He that fights and runs away,
Will live to fight another day;
For he that runs may fight again,
Which he can never do that's slain.
Deeper to wound she shuns the fight;
She drops her arms, to gain the field:
Secures her conquest by her flight:
And triumphs when she seems to yield.

Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
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Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves.