The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope: To which is Prefixed, a Life of the Author ... |
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Страница 6
... All fly to Twit'nam , and in humble strain Apply to me , to keep them mad or vai
Arthur , whose giddy son neglects the laws , Imputes to me and my damn'd works
the cause : Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope , And curses wit , and poetry ...
... All fly to Twit'nam , and in humble strain Apply to me , to keep them mad or vai
Arthur , whose giddy son neglects the laws , Imputes to me and my damn'd works
the cause : Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope , And curses wit , and poetry ...
Страница 13
Poor , guiltless I ! and can I choose but smile , When every coxcomb knows me hy
my style ? Cursed be the verse , how well soe'er it flow , That tends to make one
worthy man my foe , Give virtue scandal , innocence a fear , Or from the soft ...
Poor , guiltless I ! and can I choose but smile , When every coxcomb knows me hy
my style ? Cursed be the verse , how well soe'er it flow , That tends to make one
worthy man my foe , Give virtue scandal , innocence a fear , Or from the soft ...
Страница 15
A. But why insult the poor , affront the great ! P. A knave's a knave to me , in every
state ; Alike my scorn , if he succeed or fail , Sporus at court , or Japhet in a jail : A
hireling scribbler , or a hireling peer , Knight of the post corrupt , or of the shire ...
A. But why insult the poor , affront the great ! P. A knave's a knave to me , in every
state ; Alike my scorn , if he succeed or fail , Sporus at court , or Japhet in a jail : A
hireling scribbler , or a hireling peer , Knight of the post corrupt , or of the shire ...
Страница 24
When the tired glutton labours through a treat , He finds no relish in the sweetest
meat ; He calls for something bitter , something sour , And the rich feast
concludes extremely poor : Cheap eggs , and herbs , and olives , still we see ;
Thus much ...
When the tired glutton labours through a treat , He finds no relish in the sweetest
meat ; He calls for something bitter , something sour , And the rich feast
concludes extremely poor : Cheap eggs , and herbs , and olives , still we see ;
Thus much ...
Страница 26
O impudence of wealth ! with all thy store How darest thou let one worthy man be
poor ! Shall half the new - built churches round thee fall ? Make keys , build
bridges , or repair Whitehall : Or to thy country let that heap be lent , As M ** o's
was ...
O impudence of wealth ! with all thy store How darest thou let one worthy man be
poor ! Shall half the new - built churches round thee fall ? Make keys , build
bridges , or repair Whitehall : Or to thy country let that heap be lent , As M ** o's
was ...
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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.