The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope
Macmillan and Company, limited, 1893 - 505 pages
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Alluding ancient appears arms bear Book born called cause character charms Court Critics death died Dunciad edition Epistle equal Essay ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fall fame famous fate fire fool give grace half hand happy head heart heav'n honour imitation kind King Lady laws learned less letters light lines live Lord lost means mind Moral Muse Nature never o'er once original Passion person play poem poet poetry poor Pope Pope's pow'r praise pride published Queen reason rest rise round rules Satire sense shade sing soul sure Swift taste thee things thou thought thro translated true turns verse Virtue Warburton Warton whole wife write written youth
Page 46 - Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, " Sister spirit, come away ! " What is this absorbs me quite ? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my...
Page 198 - All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Page 275 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
Page 92 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Page 204 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen: Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Page 77 - Form a strong line about the silver bound, And guard the wide circumference around. 'Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins, Be...
Page 57 - Some to Conceit alone their taste confine, And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line; Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit; One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit. Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, And hide with ornaments their want of art.
Page 225 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than Hell to shun, That, more than Heaven pursue.
Page 193 - Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To Be, contents his natural desire, He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Page 198 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent : Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : To him no high, no low, no great, no small ; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.