Alexander Pope

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal,
O'er head and ears plunge for the common weal?
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Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal,
O'er head and ears plunge for the common weal?
Or rob Rome's ancient geese of all their glories,
And cackling save the monarchies of Tories?

Who finds not Providence all good and wise,
Alike in what it gives, and what denies.

Who finds not Providence all good and wise,
Alike in what it gives, and what denies.

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his read more

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When read more

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthened every shade.