Classic Poem

If he, from Heav'n that filch'd that living Fire,
Condemn'd by J OVE to endlesse Torment bee,
I greatly marvell, how you still goe free,
That farre beyond P ROMETHEUS did aspire:
The Fire he stole, although of Heav'nly kind,
Which from above he craftily did take,
Of livelesse Clods, us living Men to make,
He did bestow in temper of the Mind.
But you broke into Heav'ns immortall store,
Where Vertue, Honour, Wit, and Beautie lay;
Which taking thence, you have escap'd away,
Yet stand as free as ere you did before:
Yet old P ROMETHEUS punish'd for his Rape.
Thus poore Theeves suffer, when the greater scape.