John Dryden

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
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Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

Whatever is, is in its causes just.

Whatever is, is in its causes just.

For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
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For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
Nor is the people's judgment always true:
The most may err as grossly as the few.

Not heaven itself upon the past has power;
But what has been, has been, and I have had my read more

Not heaven itself upon the past has power;
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.