The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq. ...: Translations and imitationsJ. and P. Knapton, 1751 |
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Page 5
... looks , and dear deluding eyes ? The harp and bow would you like Phoebus bear , A brighter Phoebus Phaon might appear ; Would you with ivy wreath your flowing hair , Not Bacchus ' felf with Phaon could compare : Yet Phoebus lov'd , and ...
... looks , and dear deluding eyes ? The harp and bow would you like Phoebus bear , A brighter Phoebus Phaon might appear ; Would you with ivy wreath your flowing hair , Not Bacchus ' felf with Phaon could compare : Yet Phoebus lov'd , and ...
Page 11
... look with Venus ' eyes . O fcarce a youth , yet scarce a tender boy ! O useful time for lovers to employ ! 100 Pride of thy age , and glory of thy race , 105 Come to these arms , and melt in this embrace ! The vows you never will return ...
... look with Venus ' eyes . O fcarce a youth , yet scarce a tender boy ! O useful time for lovers to employ ! 100 Pride of thy age , and glory of thy race , 105 Come to these arms , and melt in this embrace ! The vows you never will return ...
Page 29
... dread altars as I drew , Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd , but you : Not grace , or zeal , love only was my call , And if I lofe thy love , I lose my all . 115 Come ! with thy looks , thy words , relieve ELOISA TO ABELARD . 29.
... dread altars as I drew , Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd , but you : Not grace , or zeal , love only was my call , And if I lofe thy love , I lose my all . 115 Come ! with thy looks , thy words , relieve ELOISA TO ABELARD . 29.
Page 30
Alexander Pope. Come ! with thy looks , thy words , relieve my woe ; Thofe ftill at least are left thee to bestow . 120 Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie , Still drink delicious poifon from thy eye , Pant on thy lip , and to thy ...
Alexander Pope. Come ! with thy looks , thy words , relieve my woe ; Thofe ftill at least are left thee to bestow . 120 Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie , Still drink delicious poifon from thy eye , Pant on thy lip , and to thy ...
Page 36
... refign ; Forget , renounce me , hate whate'er was mine . 290 Fair eyes , and tempting looks ( which yet I view ! ) Long lov'd , ador'd ideas , all adieu ! 296 O Grace ferene ! oh virtue heav'nly fair ! . 36 ELOISA TO ABELARD .
... refign ; Forget , renounce me , hate whate'er was mine . 290 Fair eyes , and tempting looks ( which yet I view ! ) Long lov'd , ador'd ideas , all adieu ! 296 O Grace ferene ! oh virtue heav'nly fair ! . 36 ELOISA TO ABELARD .
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Page 30 - With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.
Page 31 - 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 19 - Phaon's hate, And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate. Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, And softly lay me on the waves below!
Page 29 - ... on earth there be), And once the lot of Abelard and me. Alas, how chang'd ! what...
Page 26 - Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Page 36 - Ah come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign, Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Page 39 - When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds, 350 Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!
Page 29 - Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be) And once the lot of Abelard and me.
Page 26 - Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Page 31 - The darksome pines, that o'er yon rocks reclin'd, Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wandering streams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze...