The Works of Alexander Pope, Том 1

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J. F. Dove, St. John's Square, 1822

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Страница 217 - 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.
Страница 229 - To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. Some few in that, but numbers err in this ; Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss ; A fool might once himself alone expose, Now one in verse makes many more in prose. 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
Страница 377 - Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See fierce Belinda on the baron flies, With more than usual lightning in her eyes: Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
Страница 278 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Страница 239 - First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same...
Страница 345 - Now awful beauty puts on all its arms ; The fair each moment rises in her charms, Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, And calls forth all the wonders of her face : Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
Страница 220 - Hark! they whisper; Angels say, Sister Spirit, come away. What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Страница 356 - Th' expressive emblem of their softer power ; Four knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band, Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand ; And particolour'd troops, a shining train, Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain. The skilful nymph reviews her force with care : Let Spades be trumps ! she said, and trumps they were.
Страница 153 - The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. Lo, Earth receives him from the bending skies! Sink down, ye mountains! and ye valleys, rise! With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay! Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way! The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold! He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eyeball pour the day: Tis he th...
Страница 270 - But wit, abstracted from its effects upon the hearer, may be more rigorously and philosophically considered as a kind of "discordia concors", a combination of dissimilar images, or discovery of occult resemblances in things apparently unlike.

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