Alexander Pope

The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.

The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.

All Nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
All read more

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.

The difference is as great between
The optics seeing as the objects seen.
All manners take a read more

The difference is as great between
The optics seeing as the objects seen.
All manners take a tincture from our own;
Or come discolor'd through out passions shown;
Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.

Your scene precariously subsists too long,
On French translation and Italian song.
Dare to have sense yourselves; read more

Your scene precariously subsists too long,
On French translation and Italian song.
Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage;
Be justly warm'd with your own native rage.

Never find fault with the absent.

Never find fault with the absent.