The poetical works of Alexander Pope. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements. From the text of dr. Warburton. With the life of the author [by T. Cibber].1807 |
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Page 10
... gave them but their due . A man's true merit ' tis not hard to find , But each man's secret standard in his inind . That casting weight pride adds to emptiness , This who can gratify ? for who can guess ? The bard whom pilfer'd ...
... gave them but their due . A man's true merit ' tis not hard to find , But each man's secret standard in his inind . That casting weight pride adds to emptiness , This who can gratify ? for who can guess ? The bard whom pilfer'd ...
Page 27
... gave me , competence ; And let me in these shades compose Something in verse as true as prose , Remov'd from all th ' ambitious scene , Nor puff'd by pride , nor sunk by spleen . ' In short , I'm perfectly content , Let me but live on ...
... gave me , competence ; And let me in these shades compose Something in verse as true as prose , Remov'd from all th ' ambitious scene , Nor puff'd by pride , nor sunk by spleen . ' In short , I'm perfectly content , Let me but live on ...
Page 35
... gave ; read sir ! your royal cave ; y all the tracts about , ast goes in , but none come out . " if you're once a slave : urt , you send her to her grave . ing's a lion , at the least e a many headed beast : what measures to pursue ...
... gave ; read sir ! your royal cave ; y all the tracts about , ast goes in , but none come out . " if you're once a slave : urt , you send her to her grave . ing's a lion , at the least e a many headed beast : what measures to pursue ...
Page 35
... gave ; " I cannot like , dread sir ! your royal cave ; Because I see , by all the tracts about , Full many a beast goes in , but none come out . " Adieu to virtue , if you're once a slave : Send her to court , you send her to her grave ...
... gave ; " I cannot like , dread sir ! your royal cave ; Because I see , by all the tracts about , Full many a beast goes in , but none come out . " Adieu to virtue , if you're once a slave : Send her to court , you send her to her grave ...
Page 41
... gave you first ; Or better precepts if you can impart ; Why do ; I'll follow them with all my heart . BOOK I. EPISTLE VII . IN THE MANNER OF DR . SWIFT . ' Tis true , my lord , I gave my word I would be with you June the third ; Chang'd ...
... gave you first ; Or better precepts if you can impart ; Why do ; I'll follow them with all my heart . BOOK I. EPISTLE VII . IN THE MANNER OF DR . SWIFT . ' Tis true , my lord , I gave my word I would be with you June the third ; Chang'd ...
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Common terms and phrases
abuse ancient bard Bavius Behold Bless'd Charles Gildon charms Cibber court critics Curl dear Dennis divine dull Dulness dunce Dunciad Epistle Eridanus Essay Essay on Criticism ev'n eyes fame fate flame fool genius gentle Gildon glory goddess grace grave hath head hear heart Heav'n hero Homer honour Horace Iliad IMITATIONS James Moore JOHN DENNIS John Ozell Journal king knave laws learned Leonard Welsted Letter LEWIS THEOBALD live lord lov'd Matthew Concanen moral Muse ne'er never numbers o'er octavo once person pleas'd poem poet poet's poetry Pope Pope's pow'r praise pray'r printed proud queen rage REMARKS rhyme rise round sacred satire shew shine sighs sing Smil soft song soul Swift tears thee thine thing thou thought town truth verse Virgil virtue Whig wings word writ write youth
Popular passages
Page 14 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. Whether in florid impotence he speaks, And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks; Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, 320 In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, Or spite, or smut, or rhymes,...
Page 11 - Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise ; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer...
Page 107 - Statesman \ yet friend to Truth! of soul sincere, ' In action faithful, and in honour clear ; 'Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, 'Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend ; 'Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, 'And prais'd, unenvy'd, by the Muse he lov'd.
Page 11 - Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; 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 load, On wings of winds came flying...
Page 118 - I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget? How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense. And love th
Page 90 - 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. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day.
Page 6 - Sabbath-day to me: Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme, Happy! to catch me just at Dinner-time.
Page 123 - As into air the purer spirits flow, 25 And sep'rate from their kindred dregs below; So flew the soul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.
Page 10 - Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! 170 The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there?
Page 116 - With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. Ah think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.