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.

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.

How index-learning turns no student pale,
Yet holds the eel of science by the tale.

How index-learning turns no student pale,
Yet holds the eel of science by the tale.

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic read more

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame,
And poet's vision of eternal fame.

Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will,
And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.

Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will,
And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.