An Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope, 1. köideM. Cooper, 1756 |
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Page 51
... seems was of opinion , that descriptive poetry is a compofition as abfurd as a feast made up of fauces : and I know many other persons that think meanly of it . I will not presume to say it is equal , either in dignity or utility , to ...
... seems was of opinion , that descriptive poetry is a compofition as abfurd as a feast made up of fauces : and I know many other persons that think meanly of it . I will not presume to say it is equal , either in dignity or utility , to ...
Page 61
... any more , and therefore return to POPE again . THE beginning of the last stanza of the ode here examined , seems to be a repetition of the fubject fubject of the fecond , the power of mufic over AND GENIUS OF POPE . 61.
... any more , and therefore return to POPE again . THE beginning of the last stanza of the ode here examined , seems to be a repetition of the fubject fubject of the fecond , the power of mufic over AND GENIUS OF POPE . 61.
Page 68
... seem to rife above that correct mediocrity which diftinguishes the lyric poetry of the French . In this ode of Voltaire , we find a profopopeia of Americus , and afterwards a fpeech of Newton , on the defign of this traveller and his ...
... seem to rife above that correct mediocrity which diftinguishes the lyric poetry of the French . In this ode of Voltaire , we find a profopopeia of Americus , and afterwards a fpeech of Newton , on the defign of this traveller and his ...
Page 79
... . When he was yet a child , his father , who had been a mer- chant in London , and retired to Binfield with about twenty thousand pounds , would fre- quently quently order him to make English verses . It seems AND GENIUS OF POPE . 79.
... . When he was yet a child , his father , who had been a mer- chant in London , and retired to Binfield with about twenty thousand pounds , would fre- quently quently order him to make English verses . It seems AND GENIUS OF POPE . 79.
Page 80
Joseph Warton. quently order him to make English verses . It seems he was difficult to be pleased , * and would make the lad correct them again and again . When at last he approved them , he took great pleasure in perufing them , and ...
Joseph Warton. quently order him to make English verses . It seems he was difficult to be pleased , * and would make the lad correct them again and again . When at last he approved them , he took great pleasure in perufing them , and ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abelard Addiſon alfo almoſt alſo ancient beautiful becauſe beſt Boileau cauſe character circumſtances cloſe compofition Corneille criticiſm defcribed defign deſcription Domenichino Dryden Eclogue Effay elegant Eloifa Engliſh EPISTLE eſpecially Euripides excellent expreffed expreffion exquifite faid fame fatire fays feem fentiments fhall firft firſt fome fpecies ftory ftrokes fubject fublime fuch fufficient genius greateſt himſelf hiſtory Iliad images imagination inferted inftance itſelf Jane Shore juſt laft laſt Milton moft moſt mufic muſt nature numbers obfervations occafion Ovid paffage paffion pathetic perfon Petrarch pieces Pindar pleaſed pleaſure poefy poem poet poetical poetry POPE praiſes preſent profe publiſhed quæ Quintilian Racine raiſed reaſon remarkable repreſent reſemblance reſpect ſay ſcene ſeems ſeveral ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome Sophocles ſpeak ſpirit ſtage ſtanza ſtate ſtory ſtriking ſuch taſte thefe themſelves Theocritus theſe thofe thoſe tion tragedy tranflation uſed verfe verſes Virgil Voltaire whofe whoſe writing
Popular passages
Page 175 - But see! each Muse, in Leo's golden days, Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays! Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread, Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend head. Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive; Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live; With sweeter notes each rising Temple rung; A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung.
Page 144 - Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready nature waits upon his hand ; When the ripe colours soften and unite, And sweetly melt into just shade and light ; When mellowing years their full perfection give( And each bold figure just begins to live, The treacherous colours the fair art betray, And all the bright creation fades away...
Page 81 - And, when I die, be sure you let me know Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Why did I write? what sin to me unknown Dipp'd me in ink, my parents', or my own?
Page 152 - Durfey's Tales. With him most authors steal their works, or buy ; Garth did not write his own Dispensary. Name a new play, and he's the poet's friend ; Nay, show'd his faults — but when would poets mend? No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd, Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's churchyard: Nay, fly to altars ; there they'll talk you dead ; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Page 131 - Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all. Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome, (The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!) No single parts unequally surprise, All comes united to th' admiring eyes; No monstrous height, or breadth or length appear; The whole at once is bold and regular.
Page 319 - May one kind grave unite each hapless name, And graft my love immortal on thy fame. Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er...
Page 299 - How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made! Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies...
Page 41 - Less than a God they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly and so well.
Page 126 - Some figures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear, Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place, Due distance reconciles to form and grace. A prudent chief not always must display 175 His pow'rs, in equal ranks, and fair array, But with th' occasion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly.
Page 295 - Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn! .-• Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Tho' cold like you, unmov'd and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone.