 Thou, only thou, directing all our way ! To where the Seine, obsequious as she runs, Pours at great Bourbon's feet her silken sons ; Or Tiber, now no longer Roman, rolls, Vain of Italian arts, Italian souls : To happy convents, bosom'd deep in vines,...  Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Page 2481845Full view - About this book
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...Eloisa, and he shared the scepticism of his enlightened age towards the religious life, writing of 'happy Convents, bosom'd deep in vines,/ Where slumber Abbots, purple as their wines' (Dunciad, IV, 301-2). The monasteries Pope satirises here are in France, where they were to flourish... | |
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