The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Volume 3W. Pickering, 1835 |
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Página 1
... hand to this epistle . If it have any thing pleasing , it will be that by which I am most desirous to please , the truth and the sentiment ; and if any thing offensive , it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend , the vicious ...
... hand to this epistle . If it have any thing pleasing , it will be that by which I am most desirous to please , the truth and the sentiment ; and if any thing offensive , it will be only to those I am least sorry to offend , the vicious ...
Página 2
... hand , They rave , recite , and madden round the land . What walls can guard me , or what shades can hide ? They pierce my thickets , through my grot they glide , By land , by water , they renew the charge , They stop the chariot , and ...
... hand , They rave , recite , and madden round the land . What walls can guard me , or what shades can hide ? They pierce my thickets , through my grot they glide , By land , by water , they renew the charge , They stop the chariot , and ...
Página 11
Alexander Pope. Fed with soft dedication all day long , Horace and he went hand in hand in song . His library ( where ... hands ! Bless'd be the great ! for those they take away , And those they left me - for they left me Gay ; Left me to ...
Alexander Pope. Fed with soft dedication all day long , Horace and he went hand in hand in song . His library ( where ... hands ! Bless'd be the great ! for those they take away , And those they left me - for they left me Gay ; Left me to ...
Página 30
... the man . In south sea days , not happier , when surmis'd The lord of thousands , than if now excis'd ; 3 A stroke of satire at the avarice of the Duke of Marl- borough . In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in 30 THE POEMS.
... the man . In south sea days , not happier , when surmis'd The lord of thousands , than if now excis'd ; 3 A stroke of satire at the avarice of the Duke of Marl- borough . In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in 30 THE POEMS.
Página 31
Alexander Pope. In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in five acres now of rented land . Content with little , I can piddle here On brocoli and mutton round the year ; But ancient friends ( though poor , or out of play ) That touch ...
Alexander Pope. In forest planted by a father's hand , Than in five acres now of rented land . Content with little , I can piddle here On brocoli and mutton round the year ; But ancient friends ( though poor , or out of play ) That touch ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Volume 1 Alexander Pope,Alexander Dyce Pré-visualização indisponível - 2015 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
abused admire Æneid Ambrose Philips ancient bard Bavius Behold Bishop bless'd called character Charles Gildon Cibber Concanen court cries Curll Dennis divine Dryden dull Dulness dunce Dunciad e'en epic EPISTLE Eridanus Essay on Criticism eyes fame fate folly fool genius Gildon goddess grace hath head heaven hero Homer honour Horace Iliad IMITATIONS James Moore king knave labour Laureate learned LEONARD WELSTED Letter LEWIS THEOBALD live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord Hervey lov'd MIST'S JOURNAL moral muse ne'er never numbers o'er octavo once Ovid person pleas'd poem poet poet's poetry Pope Pope's praise prince printed proud queen REMARKS rhyme saith satire Scriblerus sing song soul sure Swift thee Theobald things thou throne translation truth verse VIRG Virgil virtue Welsted Whig wings words writ write youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 3 - And to be grave, exceeds all power of face. I sit with sad civility, I read With honest anguish, and an aching head ; And drop at last, but in unwilling ears, This saving counsel,
Página 141 - Berkshire, •This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, Here lies an honest man : A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace.
Página 36 - How's the wind ?' ' Whose chariot's that we left behind ?' Or gravely try to read the lines Writ underneath the country signs; Or, ' Have you nothing new to-day ' From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay ?' Such tattle often entertains My lord and me as far as Staines, As once a week we travel down To Windsor, and again to town, Where all that passes inter nos Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross.
Página 9 - 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...
Página 11 - Proud as Apollo on his forked hill, Sat full-blown Bufo, puff'd by every quill ; Fed with soft dedication all day long, Horace and he went hand in hand in song.
Página 42 - That keep me from myself; and still delay Life's instant business to a future day : That task, which as we follow, or despise, The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise : Which done, the poorest can no wants endure ; And which not done, the richest must be poor.
Página 17 - Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, Stranger to civil and religious rage, The good man walk'd innoxious through his age.
Página 15 - Th' imputed trash, and dulness not his own ; The morals blacken'd when the writings 'scape, The libell'd person, and the pictur'd shape ; Abuse, on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread, A friend in exile, or a father dead : The whisper, that to greatness still too near, Perhaps yet vibrates on his sovereign's ear — Welcome for thee, fair virtue ! all the past : For thee, fair virtue ! welcome ev'n the last ! A. But why insult the poor, affront the great ? P.
Página 9 - Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Página 140 - Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master taught, Whose art was nature, and whose pictures thought ; Now for two ages, having snatch'd from fate Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great, Lies crown'd with Princes' honours, Poets' lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.