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 5
... sire, and as her mother grave; Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind, She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind. Still her old empire to restore she tries, For, born a Goddess, Dulness never dies. O thou! whatever title please thine ear ...
... sire, and as her mother grave; Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind, She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind. Still her old empire to restore she tries, For, born a Goddess, Dulness never dies. O thou! whatever title please thine ear ...
Page 7
... sire imprest and glaring in his son. So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care, Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear. She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel shine, And Eusden eke out Blackmore's endless line; She saw slow Philips ...
... sire imprest and glaring in his son. So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care, Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear. She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel shine, And Eusden eke out Blackmore's endless line; She saw slow Philips ...
Page 11
... sire! O! pass more innocent, in infant state, To the mild limbo of our Father Tate: Or peaceably forgot, at once be blest In Shadwell's bosom with eternal rest! Soon to that mass of nonsense to return, Where things destroy'd are swept ...
... sire! O! pass more innocent, in infant state, To the mild limbo of our Father Tate: Or peaceably forgot, at once be blest In Shadwell's bosom with eternal rest! Soon to that mass of nonsense to return, Where things destroy'd are swept ...
Page 13
... sire, With fool of quality completes the quire. Thou, Cibber! thou his laurel shalt support; Folly, my son, has still a Friend at Court. Lift up your gates, ye princes, see him come! Sound, sound ye viols, be the cat-call dumb! Bring ...
... sire, With fool of quality completes the quire. Thou, Cibber! thou his laurel shalt support; Folly, my son, has still a Friend at Court. Lift up your gates, ye princes, see him come! Sound, sound ye viols, be the cat-call dumb! Bring ...
Page 51
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ancient appear arts bards bears Behold born bright bring cause charms circle close clouds Court cries Critics crowd Curll dance dark dead deep divine draw dull Dulness Dunce ev'ry eyes face fair fall fate fire flames fool gave give glory Goddess Gods grace half hand head Heav'n Hibernian horns hundred keep King knows land laws Lead lifts light look mighty mind mother mounts Muse Nature never Night o'er once past Poets praise Queen race reign rest rhyme rise roll rose round Science sense shade shine shows sing sink sire sleep soft sons soon soul sound spread stage stand streams sure thee thick thine things thou thro throne Till true turns virtue whole wide wings wonders youth