The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Esq., to which is Prefixed the Life of the Author, Volume 2J. Gladding, 1836 - English poetry |
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Page 9
... 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 ? As yet a child , nor yet a fool to fame , 1 lisp'd in numbers , for the numbers came ; I left no calling for this ...
... 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 ? As yet a child , nor yet a fool to fame , 1 lisp'd in numbers , for the numbers came ; I left no calling for this ...
Page 27
... Homer's rule the best , Welcome the coming , speed the going guest . ) ' Pray Heaven it last ! ' cries Swift , as you go on : I wish to God this house had been your own : Pity to build , without a son or wife ; IMITATIONS OF HORACE . 27.
... Homer's rule the best , Welcome the coming , speed the going guest . ) ' Pray Heaven it last ! ' cries Swift , as you go on : I wish to God this house had been your own : Pity to build , without a son or wife ; IMITATIONS OF HORACE . 27.
Page 51
... Homer ) since I live and thrive , Indebted to no prince or peer alive , Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes , If I would scribble , rather than repose . Years following years steal something every day At last they steal us from ...
... Homer ) since I live and thrive , Indebted to no prince or peer alive , Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes , If I would scribble , rather than repose . Years following years steal something every day At last they steal us from ...
Page 53
... Homer's spirit . Call Tibbald Shakspeare , and he'll swear the Nine , Dear Cibber ! never match'd one ode of thine . Lord ! how we strut through Merlin's Cave , to see No poets there , but Stephen , you , and me . Walk with respect ...
... Homer's spirit . Call Tibbald Shakspeare , and he'll swear the Nine , Dear Cibber ! never match'd one ode of thine . Lord ! how we strut through Merlin's Cave , to see No poets there , but Stephen , you , and me . Walk with respect ...
Page 95
... Homer's mice , Or gods to save them in a trice ! ( It was by Providence they think , For your damn'd stucco has no chink . ) ' An't please your honour , ' quoth the peasant , This same desert is not so pleasant : Give me again my hollow ...
... Homer's mice , Or gods to save them in a trice ! ( It was by Providence they think , For your damn'd stucco has no chink . ) ' An't please your honour , ' quoth the peasant , This same desert is not so pleasant : Give me again my hollow ...
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Common terms and phrases
admire ancient bard Bavius bless'd Boileau called charms church Cibber court cried Curll Dennis divine dull Dulness dunce Dunciad e'en Edmund Curll epic epigram EPISTLE Essay on Criticism eyes fair fame fate flatter foes folly fool genius gentle gentleman Gildon give glory goddess grace grave hath head heart Heaven hero Homer honour Horace Iliad John Dennis king knave laureate learned Leonard Welsted letter live lord lord Bolingbroke moral muse never numbers o'er Ogilby once person pleased poem poet poet's poetry Pope praise prince printed prose queen racter REMARKS rhyme saith Sappho satire Scribl Scriblerus sense Shakspeare shine sing smile song soul sure thee things thou thought throne tion town true truth verse Virgil virtue Westminster Abbey Whig whole whore words writ write youth
Popular passages
Page 6 - And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song) What drop or nostrum can this plague remove? Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love? A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped. If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead.
Page 11 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
Page 10 - Soft were my numbers ; who could take offence While pure description held the place of sense ? Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, A painted mistress, or a purling stream.
Page 131 - 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 7 - A virgin tragedy, an orphan muse.' If I dislike it, 'Furies, death and rage !' If I approve, 'Commend it to the stage.
Page 306 - In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word; Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall, And universal Darkness buries all.
Page 6 - I said; Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The Dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Page 11 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease : Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 305 - Before her Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Page 14 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.