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acquaintance Addison admirers agreeable assure beauty believe Catullus compliment critic CROMWELL desire duodecimo Eclogues edition entertaining Epic Poetry esteem express fame fancy faults favour fear friendship give glad happy heart HENRY CROMWELL Homer honour hope Iliad imagine John Dennis judgment kind Lady least less LETTER lines live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord Halifax Lucan manner ment methinks mind Miscellanies Muses nature never obliged observe occasion opinion Ovid papers pastoral person pleased pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Pope Pope's Literary Correspondence praise Pray Priam printed published Quintilian received rhyme Sappho sense shew sincerity sort Statius sure syllables talk Tatler tell thing thought tion told town translation true truth Tycho Brahe vanity verses Versification Virgil Whig WILLIAM TRUMBULL wish word writ write Wycherley
Стр. 306 - The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime Barren of every glorious theme. In distant lands now waits a better time Producing subjects worthy fame : In happy climes where from the genial sun And virgin earth such scenes ensue, The force of art by nature seems outdone, And fancied beauties by the true : In happy climes the seat of innocence, Where nature guides and virtue rules, Where men shall not impose for truth and sense The pedantry of courts and schools...
Стр. 106 - Happy the man. whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound. Content to breathe his native air. In his own ground Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire. Whose trees in summer yield him shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind. Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease. Together mixt: sweet recreation, And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Стр. 259 - Hark, they whisper ; angels say, " Sister spirit, come away ! " What is this absorbs me quite, Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul ; can this be death...
Стр. 259 - ... the world recedes it disappears heaven opens on my eyes my ears with sounds seraphic ring lend lend your wings i mount i fly o grave where is thy victory o death where is thy sting.
Стр. 306 - There shall be sung another golden Age, The rise of Empire and of Arts, The Good and Great inspiring epic Rage, The wisest Heads and noblest Hearts. Not such as Europe breeds in her decay; Such as she bred when fresh and young, When heav'nly Flame did animate her Clay, By future Poets shall be sung.
Стр. 83 - That changed through all, and yet in all the same. Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame, Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent ; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : To 'him no high, no low, no great, no small...
Стр. 105 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Стр. 250 - I would flatter myself into a good opinion of my own way of living : Plutarch just now told me, that it is in human life as in a game at tables...
Стр. 77 - It is not enough that nothing offends the Ear, but a good Poet will adapt the very Sounds, as well as Words, to the things he treats of. So that there is (if one may express it so) a Style of Sound. As in describing a gliding Stream, the Numbers shou'd run easy and flowing; in describing a rough Torrent or Deluge, sonorous and swelling, and so of the rest.