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 17
... less joy than I. O friend ! may each domestic bliss be thine ! Be no unpleasing melancholy mine : Me , let the tender office long engage To rock the cradle of reposing age , With lenient arts extend a mother's breath , Make languor ...
... less joy than I. O friend ! may each domestic bliss be thine ! Be no unpleasing melancholy mine : Me , let the tender office long engage To rock the cradle of reposing age , With lenient arts extend a mother's breath , Make languor ...
Page 22
... less lament my fate . My head and heart thus flowing through my quill , Verse - man or prose - man , term me which you will , Papist or Protestant , or both between , Like good Erasmus , in an honest mean , In moderation placing all my ...
... less lament my fate . My head and heart thus flowing through my quill , Verse - man or prose - man , term me which you will , Papist or Protestant , or both between , Like good Erasmus , in an honest mean , In moderation placing all my ...
Page 27
... less . Oldfield , with more than harpy throat endued , Cries , " Send me , gods ! a whole hog barbecued ! " O blast it , south winds ! till a stench exhale Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail . By what criterion do you eat , d'ye ...
... less . Oldfield , with more than harpy throat endued , Cries , " Send me , gods ! a whole hog barbecued ! " O blast it , south winds ! till a stench exhale Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail . By what criterion do you eat , d'ye ...
Page 44
... less admires the palace than the park ; Faith , I shall give the answer Reynard gave : • I cannot like , dread sir ! your royal cave ; Because I see , by all the tracks about , Full many a beast goes in , but none come out . ' Adieu to ...
... less admires the palace than the park ; Faith , I shall give the answer Reynard gave : • I cannot like , dread sir ! your royal cave ; Because I see , by all the tracks about , Full many a beast goes in , but none come out . ' Adieu to ...
Page 47
... less than Jove , and much above a king ; Nay , half in heaven - except ( what's mighty odd ) A fit of vapours clouds this demigod . THE SIXTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE . TO MR . MURRAY.1 ' NoT to admire , is all the art I know ...
... less than Jove , and much above a king ; Nay , half in heaven - except ( what's mighty odd ) A fit of vapours clouds this demigod . THE SIXTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE . TO MR . MURRAY.1 ' NoT to admire , is all the art I know ...
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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