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Alexander Pope Ambrose Philips ancient Bavius beauty bless'd blest bliss breast breath bright charms court cried critics crown'd Curll Cynthus divine Dunciad e'er earth ease Eclogues Elkanah Settle envy EPISTLE eternal eyes fair fame fate fire fix'd flames flowers fools genius glory Gnome grace groves happy head heart Heaven honour Horace Iliad kings knave laws learn'd learning live Lord Lord Bolingbroke mankind mind mortal Muse Muse's Nature Nature's ne'er never numbers nymph o'er once passion pastoral plain pleased poem poet Pope Pope's praise pride proud rage reason rhyme rise sacred satire sense shade shine sighs sing skies smile soft song soul spleen Sylphs taught tears Thalestris thee Theocritus things thou thought trembling truth Twas Umbriel VARIATIONS verse virtue WESTMINSTER ABBEY whate'er Whig wings write youth
Стр. 221 - 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...
Стр. 40 - Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock ' s vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th...
Стр. 29 - Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss ; A fool might once himself alone expose, Now one in verse makes many more in prose. 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
Стр. 179 - Great in the earth as in th' 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; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Стр. 171 - Tis ours to trace him only in our own. He, who through vast immensity can pierce, See worlds on worlds compose one universe, Observe how system into system runs, What other planets circle other suns, What varied being peoples every star, May tell why Heaven has made us as we are.
Стр. 212 - God loves from whole to parts: but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace; His country next; and next all human race...
Стр. 174 - Pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods. Aspiring to be Gods, if Angels fell, Aspiring to be Angels, Men rebel: And who but wishes to invert the laws Of Order, sins against th
Стр. 173 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Стр. 73 - She said ; then raging to Sir Plume repairs, And bids her beau demand the precious hairs : (Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane,) With earnest eyes, and round, unthinking face, He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case, And thus broke out — -"My lord, why, what the devil!
Стр. 213 - Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers -were thy foes, Shall then this verse to future age pretend Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend?