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 6
... head , And drop at last , but in unwilling ears , 15 21 25 30 35 This saving counsel , " Keep your peace nine years . " " Nine years ! " cries be , who , high in Drury- Lane , 44 Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane , Rhymes ...
... head , And drop at last , but in unwilling ears , 15 21 25 30 35 This saving counsel , " Keep your peace nine years . " " Nine years ! " cries be , who , high in Drury- Lane , 44 Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane , Rhymes ...
Page 8
... eye- " Go on , obliging creatures ! make me see All that disgrac'd my betters met in me . Say , for my comfort , languishing in bed , " Just so immortal Maro held his head : " 115 120 And when I die , be sure you let me POPE'S POEMS .
... eye- " Go on , obliging creatures ! make me see All that disgrac'd my betters met in me . Say , for my comfort , languishing in bed , " Just so immortal Maro held his head : " 115 120 And when I die , be sure you let me POPE'S POEMS .
Page 9
... head , And St. John's self ( great Dryden's friends before ) With open arms receiv'd one poet more . Happy my studies , when by these approv'd ! Happier their author , when by these belov'd ! From these the world will judge of men and ...
... head , And St. John's self ( great Dryden's friends before ) With open arms receiv'd one poet more . Happy my studies , when by these approv'd ! Happier their author , when by these belov'd ! From these the world will judge of men and ...
Page 11
... Horace and he went hand in hand in song . His library ( where busts of poets dead And a true Pindar stood without a head ) 225 290 235 Receiv'd of wits an undistinguish'd race , Who first his EPISTLE TO DR . ARBUTHNOT . 11.
... Horace and he went hand in hand in song . His library ( where busts of poets dead And a true Pindar stood without a head ) 225 290 235 Receiv'd of wits an undistinguish'd race , Who first his EPISTLE TO DR . ARBUTHNOT . 11.
Page 12
... head . Nor know if Dennis be alive or dead . Why am I ask'd what next shall see the light ? Heav'ns ! was I born for nothing but to write ? Has life no joys for me ? or ( to be grave ) Have I no friend to serve , no soul to save ? 270 ...
... head . Nor know if Dennis be alive or dead . Why am I ask'd what next shall see the light ? Heav'ns ! was I born for nothing but to write ? Has life no joys for me ? or ( to be grave ) Have I no friend to serve , no soul to save ? 270 ...
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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.