The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope ....: Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, being the prologue to the satires. Satires, epistles, and odes of Horace imitated. Epitaphs. The Dunciad, in four booksWilliam Pickering, 1835 |
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Page 1
... hand to this epistle . If it have any thing pleasing , it will be that by which I am most desirous to please , the truth and the sentiment ; and if any thing offensive , it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend , the vicious ...
... hand to this epistle . If it have any thing pleasing , it will be that by which I am most desirous to please , the truth and the sentiment ; and if any thing offensive , it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend , the vicious ...
Page 2
... hand , They rave , recite , and madden round the land . What walls can guard me , or what shades can hide ? They pierce my thickets , through my grot they glide , By land , by water , they renew the charge , They stop the chariot , and ...
... hand , They rave , recite , and madden round the land . What walls can guard me , or what shades can hide ? They pierce my thickets , through my grot they glide , By land , by water , they renew the charge , They stop the chariot , and ...
Page 11
Alexander Pope. Fed with soft dedication all day long , Horace and he went hand in hand in song . His library ( where ... hands ! Bless'd be the great ! for those they take away , And those they left me - for they left me Gay ; Left me to ...
Alexander Pope. Fed with soft dedication all day long , Horace and he went hand in hand in song . His library ( where ... hands ! Bless'd be the great ! for those they take away , And those they left me - for they left me Gay ; Left me to ...
Page 30
... the man . In south sea days , not happier , when surmis'd The lord of thousands , than if now excis'd ; 3 A stroke of satire at the avarice of the Duke of Marl- borough . In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in 30 THE POEMS.
... the man . In south sea days , not happier , when surmis'd The lord of thousands , than if now excis'd ; 3 A stroke of satire at the avarice of the Duke of Marl- borough . In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in 30 THE POEMS.
Page 31
Alexander Pope. In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in five acres now of rented land . Content with little , I can piddle here On brocoli and mutton round the year ; But ancient friends ( though poor , or out of play ) That touch ...
Alexander Pope. In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in five acres now of rented land . Content with little , I can piddle here On brocoli and mutton round the year ; But ancient friends ( though poor , or out of play ) That touch ...
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Common terms and phrases
abuse admire Æneid ancient bard Bavius Behold Bishop Bless'd called character Cibber Concanen court cries Curll Daily Journal Dennis divine Dryden dull Dulness dunce Dunciad e'en epic Epistle Eridanus Essay on Criticism eyes fame fate folly fool genius Gildon give goddess grace hath head heaven hero Homer honour Horace Iliad IMITATIONS James Moore John Dennis king knave labour Laureate learned LEONARD WELSTED Letter Lewis Theobald libels live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord Hervey lov'd Matthew Concanen MIST'S JOURNAL moral muse ne'er never o'er octavo once Ovid person pleas'd poem poet Poet Laureate poet's poetry Pope Pope's praise prince printed proud queen REMARKS rhyme satire Scriblerus sing song soul sure Swift thee Theobald thing thou Tibbald translation truth verse VIRG Virgil virtue wings words writ write youth
Popular passages
Page 117 - Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to see Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me; Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone. 0 sacred weapon ! left for truth's defence, Sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence ! o all but heaven-directed hands denied,
Page 256 - High on a throne of royal state, that far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind ( Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sate.
Page 3 - whose giddy son neglects the laws, Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause : Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope, 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 caa this plague
Page 301 - &c.] Parody on Denham, Cooper's Hill: ' O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme ; Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull: Strong without rage ; without o'erflowing full!
Page 235 - Still her old empire to restore she tries, For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies. O thou! whatever title please thine ear, Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver! Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair, Or praise the court, or magnify mankind, Or thy griev'd country's copper chains unbind;
Page 137 - VIXIT TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR ANNOS, HEU PAUCOS, XXXV. OB. FEB. XIV. MDCCXX. STATESMAN, yet friend to truth ! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear! Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend;
Page 49 - and may darken thine. And what is fame ? the meanest have their day; The greatest can but blaze and pass away. Grac'd as thou art with all the power of words, So known, so honour'd, at the house of lords : Conspicuous scene ! another yet is nigh, (More silent far,) where kings and poets
Page 12 - makes. Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but smile, When every coxcomb knows me by my style ? Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe, Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, Or from the soft ey'd virgin steal a tear! But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace,
Page 322 - So upright quakers please both man and God. ' Mistress! dismiss that rabble from your throne : Avaunt is Aristarchus yet unknown ? 210 Thy mighty scholiast, whose unwearied pains Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains. Turn what they will to verse, their toil is vain, Critics like me shall make it prose again. [ter;
Page 13 - what was never there; Who reads but with a lust to misapply, Makes satire a lampoon, and fiction lie : A lash like mine no honest man shall dread, But all such babbling blockheads in his stead. Let Sporus 1 tremble— A .What ? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of asses