Know Thyself

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;

The proper study of mankind is Man.

Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,

A being darkly wise and rudely great:

With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,

With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride,

He hangs between; in doubt to act or rest,

In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast,

In doubt his mind or body to prefer;

Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;

Alike in ignorance, his reason such

Whether he thinks too little or too much:

Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;

Still by himself abused, or disabused;

Created half to rise and half to fall;

Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;

Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:

The glory, jest, and riddle of the world! Alexander Pope (Picture: Eye, M. C. Escher)

Ode to Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air

In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire,

Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcern’dly find

Hours, days, and years slide soft away,

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,

Together mixt; sweet recreation:

And innocence, which most does please

With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie. Alexander Pope (Picture: A Man in a Room, Rembrandt)