The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq: In Nine Volumes Complete, with His Last Corrections, Additions, and Improvements, as They Were Delivered to the Editor a Little Before His Death, Together with the Commentary and Notes of Mr. Warburton, 2. köide
A. Millar, J. and R. Tonson, C. Bathurst, R. Baldwin, W. Johnston, J. Richardson, B. Law, S. Crowder, T. Longman, T. Field, and T. Caslon, 1760
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Page 31 - Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away; And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Page 33 - Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be) And once the lot of Abelard and me.
Page 44 - If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And...
Page 34 - Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest.
Page 29 - IN these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heavenly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns, What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat ? Yet, yet I love ! — From Abelard it came, And Eloisa yet must kiss the name.
Page 36 - But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence., and a dread repose: Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Page 43 - Cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloi'sa see ! It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
Page 65 - The figur'd games of Greece the column grace, Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race. The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run ; The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone ; The champions in distorted postures threat ; And all appear'd irregularly great. Here happy Horace tun'd th...