John Gay

The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.

The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.

Lash'd into Latin by the tingling rod.

Lash'd into Latin by the tingling rod.

In other men we faults may spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little read more

In other men we faults may spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little speck and blemish find,
To our own stronger errors blind.

"I cannot raise my worth too high;
Of what vast consequence am I!"
"Not of the importance read more

"I cannot raise my worth too high;
Of what vast consequence am I!"
"Not of the importance you suppose,"
Replies a Flea upon his nose;
"Be humble, learn thyself to scan;
Know, pride was never made for man."

Thus shadow owes its birth to light.

Thus shadow owes its birth to light.