The poetical works of Alexander Pope. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements. From the text of dr. Warburton. With the life of the author [by T. Cibber].1807 |
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Page 6
... 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 ...
... 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 ...
Page 8
... son one shoulder had too high , Such Ovid's nose , and , " Sir , you have an eye- " Go on , obliging creatures ! make me see All that disgrac'd my betters met in me . Say , for my comfort , languishing in bed , " Just so immortal Maro ...
... son one shoulder had too high , Such Ovid's nose , and , " Sir , you have an eye- " Go on , obliging creatures ! make me see All that disgrac'd my betters met in me . Say , for my comfort , languishing in bed , " Just so immortal Maro ...
Page 23
... son was drown'd ) At such a feast , old vinegar to spare , Is what two souls so generous cannot bear : Oil , though it stink , they drop by drop impart , But souse the cabbage with a bounteous heart . He knows to live who keeps the ...
... son was drown'd ) At such a feast , old vinegar to spare , Is what two souls so generous cannot bear : Oil , though it stink , they drop by drop impart , But souse the cabbage with a bounteous heart . He knows to live who keeps the ...
Page 24
... son . You suppose , Perhaps , young men ! our fathers had no nose . Not so : a buck was then a week's repast , And ' twas their point , I ween , to make it last ; More pleas'd to keep it till their friends could come , Than eat the ...
... son . You suppose , Perhaps , young men ! our fathers had no nose . Not so : a buck was then a week's repast , And ' twas their point , I ween , to make it last ; More pleas'd to keep it till their friends could come , Than eat the ...
Page 26
... son or wife : Why you'll enjoy it only all your life . ” Well if the use be mine , can it concern one Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon ? What's property ? dear Swift ! -you see it alter From you to me , from me to Peter Walter ...
... son or wife : Why you'll enjoy it only all your life . ” Well if the use be mine , can it concern one Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon ? What's property ? dear Swift ! -you see it alter From you to me , from me to Peter Walter ...
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Common terms and phrases
abuse ancient bard Bavius Behold Bless'd Charles Gildon charms Cibber court critics Curl dear Dennis divine dull Dulness dunce Dunciad Epistle Eridanus Essay Essay on Criticism ev'n eyes fame fate flame fool genius gentle Gildon glory goddess grace grave hath head hear heart Heav'n hero Homer honour Horace Iliad IMITATIONS James Moore JOHN DENNIS John Ozell Journal king knave laws learned Leonard Welsted Letter LEWIS THEOBALD live lord lov'd Matthew Concanen moral Muse ne'er never numbers o'er octavo once person pleas'd poem poet poet's poetry Pope Pope's pow'r praise pray'r printed proud queen rage REMARKS rhyme rise round sacred satire shew shine sighs sing Smil soft song soul Swift tears thee thine thing thou thought town truth verse Virgil virtue Whig wings word 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. Whether in florid impotence he speaks, And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks; Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, 320 In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, Or spite, or smut, or rhymes,...
Page 11 - Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise ; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer...
Page 107 - 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 ; 'Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, 'And prais'd, unenvy'd, by the Muse he lov'd.
Page 11 - Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 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 load, On wings of winds came flying...
Page 118 - I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget? How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense. And love th
Page 90 - A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day.
Page 6 - Sabbath-day to me: Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme, Happy! to catch me just at Dinner-time.
Page 123 - As into air the purer spirits flow, 25 And sep'rate from their kindred dregs below; So flew the soul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.
Page 10 - Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! 170 The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there?
Page 116 - With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. Ah think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.