The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope: With His Last Corrections, Additions & Improvements

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B. Johnson, 1804 - 171 pages

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Page 161 - Night primaeval and of Chaos old ! Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Page 161 - 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 134 - The moon-struck prophet felt the madding hour : Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night, To blot out order, and extinguish light, Of dull and venal a new world to mould, And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold.
Page 54 - Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance! How tragedy and comedy embrace; How farce and epic get a jumbled race; How Time himself stands still at her command, Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land. Here gay Description Egypt glads with show'rs, Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flow'rs; Glitt'ring with ice here hoary hills are seen, There painted valleys of eternal green.
Page 161 - Heav'n before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! See Mystery to Mathematics fly! In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die, Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.
Page 146 - To happy Convents, bosom'd deep in vines, Where slumber Abbots, purple as their wines; To Isles of fragrance, lUy-silver'd vales, Diffusing languor in the panting gales: To lands of singing, or of dancing slaves, Love-whisp'ring woods, and lute-resounding waves. But chief her shrine where naked Venus keeps, And Cupids ride the Lion of the Deeps...
Page 59 - That slipp'd through cracks and zig-zags of the head ; All that on Folly Frenzy could beget, Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit.
Page 75 - HIGH on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shone Henley's gilt tub, or Fleckno's Irish throne, Or that where on her Curls the Public pours, All-bounteous, fragrant Grains and Golden show'rs, Great Gibber sate...
Page 67 - Imperial seat of Fools. Here to her Chosen all her works she shews; Prose swell'd to verse, verse loit'ring into prose: How random thoughts now meaning chance to find, Now leave all memory of sense behind: How Prologues into Prefaces decay, And these to Notes are fritter'd quite away: How Index-learning turns no student pale, Yet holds the eel of science by the tail...
Page 133 - YET, yet a moment, one dim ray of light Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night ! Of darkness visible so much be lent, As half to show, half veil the deep intent.

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