The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope: To which is Prefixed, a Life of the Author ...Z. & B. F. Pratt, 1846 |
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Страница 13
... o'er thy urn ! Oh , let me live my own , and die so too ! ( To live and die is all I have to do :) Maintain a poet's dignity and ease , And see what friends , and read what books I please : Above a patron , though I condescend Sometimes ...
... o'er thy urn ! Oh , let me live my own , and die so too ! ( To live and die is all I have to do :) Maintain a poet's dignity and ease , And see what friends , and read what books I please : Above a patron , though I condescend Sometimes ...
Страница 22
... o'er my grotto , and but soothes my sleep . There , my retreat the best companions grace , Chiefs out of war , and statesmen out of place . There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul : And he ...
... o'er my grotto , and but soothes my sleep . There , my retreat the best companions grace , Chiefs out of war , and statesmen out of place . There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul : And he ...
Страница 28
... o'er the garden gates , In life's cool evening satiate of applause , Nor fond of bleeding , e'en in Brunswick's cause . A voice there is , that whispers in my ear , ( ' Tis reason's voice , which sometimes one can hear , ` ' Friend Pope ...
... o'er the garden gates , In life's cool evening satiate of applause , Nor fond of bleeding , e'en in Brunswick's cause . A voice there is , that whispers in my ear , ( ' Tis reason's voice , which sometimes one can hear , ` ' Friend Pope ...
Страница 41
... o'er , ) One simile , that solitary shines In the dry desert of a thousand lines , Or lengthen'd thought that gleams through many a Has sanctified whole poems for an age . VOL . II . 4 [ page I lose my patience , and I own it too ...
... o'er , ) One simile , that solitary shines In the dry desert of a thousand lines , Or lengthen'd thought that gleams through many a Has sanctified whole poems for an age . VOL . II . 4 [ page I lose my patience , and I own it too ...
Страница 45
... felt our captive's charms Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms ; Britain to soft refinements less a foe , Wit grew polite , and numbers learn'd to flow . Waller was smooth ; but Dryden taught to join The IMITATIONS OF HORACE 45.
... felt our captive's charms Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms ; Britain to soft refinements less a foe , Wit grew polite , and numbers learn'd to flow . Waller was smooth ; but Dryden taught to join The IMITATIONS OF HORACE 45.
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ancient bard Bavius behold bless'd Boileau called charms CHIG church Cibber court cried critics Curll Dennis divine dull Dulness dunce Dunciad e'en Edmund Curll epic epigram EPISTLE Essay Essay on Criticism eyes fame fate flatter folly fool genius gentle gentleman Gildon give glory goddess grace grave hath head heart Heaven hero Homer honour Horace Iliad king knave laureate learned Leonard Welsted letters live lord lord Bolingbroke muse never numbers o'er Ogilby once panegyric person pleased poem poet poet's poetry Pope praise prince printed queen racter rage REMARKS rhyme saith satire scholiast Scribl Scriblerus sense Shakspeare shine sing SITY smile song soul sure thee things thou thought throne tion town true truth UNIV verse Virgil virtue Westminster Abbey Whig whore words writ write
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Страница 54 - True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
Страница 6 - I said; Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The Dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Страница 106 - twixt reading and Bohea, To muse, and spill her solitary Tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon...
Страница 12 - Till grown more frugal in his riper days, He paid some bards with port, and some with praise ; To some a dry rehearsal was assign'd, And others (harder still) he paid in kind.
Страница 11 - Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause ; While wits and templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he ? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers...
Страница 6 - And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song) What drop or nostrum can this plague remove ? Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love ? A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped, If foes, they write, — if friends, they read me dead.
Страница 280 - Some gentle James, to bless the land again ; To stick the doctor's chair into the throne, Give law to words, or war with words alone, Senates and courts with Greek and Latin rule, And turn the council to a grammar school ! For sure, if Dulness sees a grateful day, 'Tis in the shade of arbitrary sway.
Страница 14 - What ? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of Ass's milk ? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel ? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel ? P.
Страница 306 - In vain ! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word ; Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Страница 305 - Heav'n before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! See Mystery to Mathematics fly! In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die, Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.