Selected Poems of Alexander PopeCrofts, 1926 - 271 pages |
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Page viii
... SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK THE SECOND SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK . THE FIRST EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK . THE SIXTH Epistle of THE FIRST BOOK THE FIRST Epistle of THE SECOND BOOK . 183 THE SECOND EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK 196 EPILOGUE TO ...
... SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK THE SECOND SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK . THE FIRST EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK . THE SIXTH Epistle of THE FIRST BOOK THE FIRST Epistle of THE SECOND BOOK . 183 THE SECOND EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK 196 EPILOGUE TO ...
Page 18
... satire learn'd to spare , And Vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there ! Encourag'd thus , Wit's Titans brav'd the skies , And the press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies . These monsters , Critics ! with your darts engage , Here point ...
... satire learn'd to spare , And Vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there ! Encourag'd thus , Wit's Titans brav'd the skies , And the press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies . These monsters , Critics ! with your darts engage , Here point ...
Page 154
... but prose run mad : All these , my modest Satire bade translate , And own'd that nine such Poets made a Tate . 190 How did they fume , and stamp , and roar , and chafe ! And swear , not ADDISON himself was safe . 195 154 ALEXANDER POPE.
... but prose run mad : All these , my modest Satire bade translate , And own'd that nine such Poets made a Tate . 190 How did they fume , and stamp , and roar , and chafe ! And swear , not ADDISON himself was safe . 195 154 ALEXANDER POPE.
Page 158
... Satire a Lampoon , and Fiction Lye ; A lash like mine no honest man shall dread , But all such babbling blockheads in his stead . Let Sporus tremble A. What ? that thing of silk , Sporus , that mere white curd of Ass's milk ? Satire or ...
... Satire a Lampoon , and Fiction Lye ; A lash like mine no honest man shall dread , But all such babbling blockheads in his stead . Let Sporus tremble A. What ? that thing of silk , Sporus , that mere white curd of Ass's milk ? Satire or ...
Page 162
... SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE SATIRE I To Mr. Fortescue P. There are ( I scarce can think it , but am told ) There are , to whom my Satire seems too bold : Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough , And something said of Chartres ...
... SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE SATIRE I To Mr. Fortescue P. There are ( I scarce can think it , but am told ) There are , to whom my Satire seems too bold : Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough , And something said of Chartres ...
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Alexander Pope Balaam beauty blessing blest charms Colley Cibber Court Courthope Critics D¿mons death divine Dryden Dunciad e'er Earl of Burlington ease eighteenth century Epistle Essay on Criticism ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate flow'rs Folly fool gen'ral gen'rous genius give glory Gnome grace happy heart Heav'n honour Horace King knave laws learn'd live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord Fanny Lord Hervey mankind mind Moral Essays Muse Nature ne'er never numbers nymph o'er once painted Passion pleas'd pleasure poem poet poetry Pope Pope's pow'r praise pray'r pride proud Queen rage Reason rhyme rich rise rules Sappho Satire Scriblerus Club Self-love sense shine soul spirit Sylphs taste tears Thalestris thee things thou thought thro tremble Truth verse Vice Virtue Walpole Warburton Whig whole Wife wise write
Popular passages
Page 13 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar : When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow ; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Page 11 - And value books, as women men, for dress: Their praise is still, — The style is excellent; The sense, they humbly take upon content. Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
Page 76 - KNOW then thyself, presume not God to scan ; The proper study of mankind is Man. Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great : With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, With too much weakness for the stoic's pride, He hangs between ; in doubt to act, or rest ; In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast ; In doubt his mind or body to prefer...
Page 118 - twould a saint provoke," (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke ;} " No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And — Betty — give this cheek a little red.
Page 30 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends ; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if Belles had faults to hide : If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
Page 74 - That changed through all, and yet in all the same. Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame, Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent...
Page 159 - Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. His wit all see-saw, between that and this, Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himself one vile Antithesis. Amphibious thing! that acting either part, The trifling head or the corrupted heart, Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board, Now trips a Lady, and now struts a Lord.
Page 82 - Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades ; and there, At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
Page 1 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care 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.
Page 108 - 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. What blessings Thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, T