The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope: With a Life, Volume 3Little, Brown, 1859 |
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Page 11
... genius bloom , Neglected die , and tell it on his tomb : Of all thy blameless life the sole return My verse , and Queensberry weeping o'er thy urn ! Oh ! let me live my own , and die so too ! ( To live and die is all I have to do ) ...
... genius bloom , Neglected die , and tell it on his tomb : Of all thy blameless life the sole return My verse , and Queensberry weeping o'er thy urn ! Oh ! let me live my own , and die so too ! ( To live and die is all I have to do ) ...
Page 12
... genius never can lie still : " And then for mine obligingly mistakes The first lampoon Sir Will or Bubo 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 ...
... genius never can lie still : " And then for mine obligingly mistakes The first lampoon Sir Will or Bubo 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 ...
Page 25
... genius of the stubborn plain , Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain . Envy must own I live among the great , No pimp of pleasure , and no spy of state , With eyes that pry not , tongue that ne'er repeats , Fond to spread friendships ...
... genius of the stubborn plain , Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain . Envy must own I live among the great , No pimp of pleasure , and no spy of state , With eyes that pry not , tongue that ne'er repeats , Fond to spread friendships ...
Page 72
... genius at an opera song- To say too much might do my honour wrong . Take him with all his virtues on my word ; His whole ambition was to serve a lord . 1 Colonel Cotterell , of Rousham , near Oxford . But , sir , to you with what would ...
... genius at an opera song- To say too much might do my honour wrong . Take him with all his virtues on my word ; His whole ambition was to serve a lord . 1 Colonel Cotterell , of Rousham , near Oxford . But , sir , to you with what would ...
Page 77
... genius , and mine Homer's spirit . Call Tibbald Shakspeare , and he'll swear the Nine , Dear Cibber ! never match'd one ode of thine . Lord ! how we strut through Merlin's cave , to see No poets there but Stephen , you , and me . Walk ...
... genius , and mine Homer's spirit . Call Tibbald Shakspeare , and he'll swear the Nine , Dear Cibber ! never match'd one ode of thine . Lord ! how we strut through Merlin's cave , to see No poets there but Stephen , you , and me . Walk ...
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Common terms and phrases
abused admire Æneid Ambrose Philips ancient bard Bavius Behold Bishop bless'd called character Charles Gildon Cibber Concanen court cries Curll Dennis divine Dryden dull Dulness dunce Dunciad e'en Edmund Curll epic EPISTLE Eridanus Essay on Criticism eyes fame fate folly fool genius Gildon goddess grace hath head heaven hero Homer honour Horace Iliad IMITATIONS James Moore king knave labour Laureate learned LEONARD WELSTED Letter LEWIS THEOBALD live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord Hervey lov'd MIST'S JOURNAL moral muse ne'er never o'er octavo Oldmixon once Ovid person pleas'd poem poet poet's poetry Pope Pope's praise prince printed proud queen REMARKS rhyme saith satire Scriblerus sing song soul sure Swift thee Theobald things thou translated truth verse VIRG Virgil virtue Welsted Whig wings words writ write youth
Popular passages
Page 14 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys : So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Page 360 - See Mystery to Mathematics fly ! In vain ! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor'd; Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; And universal darkness buries all.
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.
Page 7 - And, when I die, be sure you let me know Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Why did I write? what sin to me unknown Dipp'd me in ink, my parents', or my own? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
Page 16 - If on a pillory, or near a throne, He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own. Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, Sappho can tell you how this man was bit...
Page 8 - Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.
Page 141 - Unblam'd through life, lamented in thy end, These are thy honours ! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust ; But that the worthy and the good shall say, Striking their pensive bosoms — Here lies GAY...
Page 3 - Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song) What drop or nostrum can this plague remove ? Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love ? A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped, If foes, they write, — if friends, they read me dead.
Page 360 - Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand opprest, Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest; Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, Art after Art goes out, and all is Night: See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of Casuistry heap'd o'er her head!
Page 3 - And curses Wit, and Poetry, and Pope. Friend to my Life ! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song...