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Page 78 - With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death, Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, And keep a while one parent from the sky...
Page 178 - 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 restored ; Light dies before thy uncreating word : Thy hand, great anarch ! lets the curtain fall ; And universal darkness buries all.
Page 67 - TWIT'NAM, and in humble strain Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain. Arthur, 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.
Page 129 - True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
Page 76 - A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Page 70 - 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 68 - I'm all submission ; what you'd have it, make it." Three things another's modest wishes bound, My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound. Pitholeon sends to me : " You know his grace : I want a patron ; ask him for a place.
Page 72 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease : Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk...
Page 126 - He stuck to poverty with peace of mind ; And me, the Muses help'd to undergo it ; Convict a papist he, and I a poet. But (thanks to Homer) since I live and thrive, Indebted to no prince or peer alive ; Sure I should want the care of ten Monroes,3 If I would scribble rather than repose.