The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq., in Verse and Prose: Containing the Principal Notes of Drs. Warburton and Warton, 2. köide
J. Johnson, 1806
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appears arms bear beauty bright called character charms Chaucer court dear death divine Eteocles ev'ry eyes face faid fair fame fate father fays feems fhade fhall fhould fide fire firſt flame fome foul ftill fubject fuch gentle give grace hand heart heav'n honour IMITATIONS Italy joys kind King Lady laft late learning leave letter lies light lines live loft look Lord manner mind moſt muſt nature never night NOTES o'er once original poem poet Pope Pope's rage rife rocks ſhe tears tell thee thefe theſe thing thofe thoſe thou thought tranflation trees turns verfes virtue WARTON whofe wife write written youth
Page 44 - 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 425 - A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life ; and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, Thank'd Heaven that he had liv'd, and that he died.
Page 53 - And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the Cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Page 52 - Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments mayst thou stand...
Page 338 - To muse, and spill her solitary Tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon...
Page 435 - Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame, Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham : In whom a race, for courage fam'd and art, Ends in the milder merit of the heart : And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given, Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven.
Page 42 - In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd, Where awful arches make a noon-day night, And the dim windows shed a solemn light ; Thy eyes diffus'da reconciling ray, And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others...
Page 39 - Oh! happy state! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature law...
Page 50 - Stain all my foul, and wanton in my eyes ! I wafte the Matin lamp in fighs for thee, Thy image fteals between my God and me, Thy voice I feem in ev'ry hymn to hear , With ev'ry bead I drop too foft a tear.
Page 411 - The scourge of pride, tho' sanctify'd or great, Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state; Yet soft his nature, tho' severe his lay, His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. Blest satyrist! who touch'd the mean so true, As show'd, vice had his hate and pity too. Blest courtier! who could king and country please, Yet sacred keep his friendship, and his Ease. Blest peer! his great forefathers...