Alexander Pope

We conquered France, but felt our captive's charms,
Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms.

We conquered France, but felt our captive's charms,
Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

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.

See the wild Waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, read more

See the wild Waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!