The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Том 2J. Nichol, 1856 |
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Страница xiv
... praise her , and grave bishops bless . In golden chains the willing world she draws , And hers the gospel is , and hers the laws ; Mounts the tribunal , lifts her scarlet head , And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead . " ) But they ...
... praise her , and grave bishops bless . In golden chains the willing world she draws , And hers the gospel is , and hers the laws ; Mounts the tribunal , lifts her scarlet head , And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead . " ) But they ...
Страница 4
... praise . When flattery glares , all hate it in a queen , While one there is who charms us with his spleen . But these plain characters we rarely find ; Though strong the bent , yet quick the turns of mind : Or puzzling contraries ...
... praise . When flattery glares , all hate it in a queen , While one there is who charms us with his spleen . But these plain characters we rarely find ; Though strong the bent , yet quick the turns of mind : Or puzzling contraries ...
Страница 5
... praise Patricio's1 high desert , His hand unstain'd , his uncorrupted heart , His comprehensive head , all interests weigh'd , All Europe saved , yet Britain not betray'd ? He thanks you not , his pride is in picquet , Newmarket fame ...
... praise Patricio's1 high desert , His hand unstain'd , his uncorrupted heart , His comprehensive head , all interests weigh'd , All Europe saved , yet Britain not betray'd ? He thanks you not , his pride is in picquet , Newmarket fame ...
Страница 8
... praise : Born with whate'er could win it from the wise , Women and fools must like him or he dies ; Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke , The club must hail him master of the joke . Shall parts so various aim at nothing new ...
... praise : Born with whate'er could win it from the wise , Women and fools must like him or he dies ; Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke , The club must hail him master of the joke . Shall parts so various aim at nothing new ...
Страница 9
... praise , His life , to forfeit it a thousand ways ; A constant bounty which no friend has made ; An angel tongue , which no man can persuade ; A fool , with more of wit than half mankind , Too rash for thought , for action too refined ...
... praise , His life , to forfeit it a thousand ways ; A constant bounty which no friend has made ; An angel tongue , which no man can persuade ; A fool , with more of wit than half mankind , Too rash for thought , for action too refined ...
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Страница 312 - 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 311 - Night primeval and of Chaos old ! Before her, fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Страница 38 - To build, to plant, whatever you intend, To rear the column, or the arch to bend, To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot; In all, let Nature never be forgot.
Страница 32 - Of mimic'd statesmen and their merry king. No wit to flatter left of all his store! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends.
Страница 185 - If I am right, Thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart To find that better way.
Страница 31 - But clear and artless pouring through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise ? " The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread ! The Man of Ross...
Страница 296 - For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head With all such reading as was never read: For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, And write about it, Goddess, and about it: So spins the silk-worm small its slender store, And labours till it clouds itself all o'er.
Страница 13 - Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name? A fool to Pleasure, yet a slave to Fame: Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs, Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres : Now Conscience chills her, and now Passion burns; 65 And Atheism and Religion take their turns; A very Heathen in the carnal part, Yet still a sad, good Christian at her heart.
Страница 20 - She, who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, Yet has her humour most, when she obeys...
Страница 15 - No thought advances, but her eddy brain Whisks it about, and down it goes again. Full sixty years the world has been her trade, The wisest fool much time has ever made. From loveless youth to unrespected age, No passion gratified except her rage.