The DunciadFans of literary lampoonery will delight in the no-holds-barred, scorched-earth satire that British poet Alexander Pope unleashes in his witty masterpiece, The Dunciad. Disgusted by the teeming waves of self-proclaimed "writers" who emerged in search of a quick buck when the growing availability of cheaply printed books made sentimental stories popular with the public, Pope took it upon himself to put these hacks in their place in an epic poem lambasting their dullness and lack of refinement. |
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Page 7
... Queen Beholds thro' fogs that magnify the scene. She, tinsel'd o'er in robes of varying hues, With self-applause her wild creation views; Sees momentary monsters rise and fall, And with her own fools-colours guilds them all. 'T was on ...
... Queen Beholds thro' fogs that magnify the scene. She, tinsel'd o'er in robes of varying hues, With self-applause her wild creation views; Sees momentary monsters rise and fall, And with her own fools-colours guilds them all. 'T was on ...
Page 11
... Queen! is serving thine. And see! thy very Gazetteers give o'er, Ev'n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more. What then remains? Ourself. Still, still remain Cibberian forehead, and Cibberian brain; This brazen brightness to the ...
... Queen! is serving thine. And see! thy very Gazetteers give o'er, Ev'n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more. What then remains? Ourself. Still, still remain Cibberian forehead, and Cibberian brain; This brazen brightness to the ...
Page 16
... Queen, to glad her sons, proclaims By herald hawkers, high heroic games. They summon all her race: an endless band Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the land; A motley mixture! in long wigs, in bags, In silks, in crapes, in Garters ...
... Queen, to glad her sons, proclaims By herald hawkers, high heroic games. They summon all her race: an endless band Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the land; A motley mixture! in long wigs, in bags, In silks, in crapes, in Garters ...
Page 19
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