Pope. Satires and Epistles, ed. by M. Pattison1872 |
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Page 36
... heav'n , to bless those days , preserve my friend , Preserve him social , chearful , and serene , And just as rich as when he serv'd a queen . A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n , Thus far was right , the rest belongs to heav'n ...
... heav'n , to bless those days , preserve my friend , Preserve him social , chearful , and serene , And just as rich as when he serv'd a queen . A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n , Thus far was right , the rest belongs to heav'n ...
Page 48
... heav'n it last ! ( cries Swift ! ) as you go on ; I wish to God this house had been your own : Pity to build , without a son or wife ; Why , you'll enjoy it only all your life . ' Well , if the use be mine , can it concern one , Whether ...
... heav'n it last ! ( cries Swift ! ) as you go on ; I wish to God this house had been your own : Pity to build , without a son or wife ; Why , you'll enjoy it only all your life . ' Well , if the use be mine , can it concern one , Whether ...
Page 63
... heav'n's own oracles from altars heard . Wonder of Kings ! like whom , to mortal eyes None e'er has risen , and none e'er shall rise . Just in one instance , be it yet confest Your people , Sir , are partial in the rest : Foes to all ...
... heav'n's own oracles from altars heard . Wonder of Kings ! like whom , to mortal eyes None e'er has risen , and none e'er shall rise . Just in one instance , be it yet confest Your people , Sir , are partial in the rest : Foes to all ...
Page 65
... heav'n can bound , Now serpent - like in prose he sweeps the ground , In quibbles angel and archangel join , And God the Father turns a school - divine . Not that I'd lop the beauties from his book , Like slashing Bentley with his desp ...
... heav'n can bound , Now serpent - like in prose he sweeps the ground , In quibbles angel and archangel join , And God the Father turns a school - divine . Not that I'd lop the beauties from his book , Like slashing Bentley with his desp ...
Page 69
... heav'n is won by violence of song . Our rural ancestors , with little blest , Patient of labour when the end was rest , Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain , With feasts , and off'rings , and a thankful strain : The joy ...
... heav'n is won by violence of song . Our rural ancestors , with little blest , Patient of labour when the end was rest , Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain , With feasts , and off'rings , and a thankful strain : The joy ...
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Addison allusion Arbuthnot authors Balliol College Bishop Blackmore Boileau Bolingbroke Book Budgel Carruthers character Church Cibber Clarendon Press Series cloth College court died Dindorfii Dryden Duke Dunciad Edward Wortley Montagu England English Essay Eton College ev'n ev'ry Extra fcap fame fcap fools formerly Fellow genius George grace Greek heav'n History honour Imitation of Horace John Johnson King knave language laugh libeller Lincoln College literature live London Lord Bolingbroke Lord Fanny Lord Hervey lov'd muse ne'er never noble numbers Oriel College Oxford Pindaric pleas'd poems poet poetry Pope pow'r praise Prince Professor Prol Queen reign rhyme Roman Satires and Epistles satirist Sir Robert soul Spence Swift taste thou thought thro translation truth University of Oxford verse vice virtue W. F. Donkin W. W. Skeat Walpole Warburton's Warton Whig write
Popular passages
Page 30 - 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...
Page 33 - 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 30 - Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he ? What though my name stood rubric on the walls Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers...
Page 52 - Who counsels best ? who whispers, ' Be but great, With praise or infamy leave that to fate; Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace ; If not, by any means get wealth and place.
Page 145 - I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, "Would he ' had blotted a thousand," which they thought a malevolent speech.
Page 27 - Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, 'Just so immortal Maro held his head'; 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?
Page 144 - whispers through the trees": If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep," The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep": Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
Page 29 - 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 28 - Commas and points they set exactly right, And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite.
Page 64 - Who now reads Cowley ? if he pleases yet, His moral pleases, not his pointed wit ; Forgot his epic, nay Pindaric art, But still I love the language of his heart.