Alexander Pope

Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
. . . .
In those fair fields read more

Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
. . . .
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?

And all who told it added something new, And all who heard it made enlargements too.

And all who told it added something new, And all who heard it made enlargements too.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated need but to be seen;
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Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated need but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.