The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope: To which is Prefixed, a Life of the Author ...Z. & B. F. Pratt, 1846 |
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Seite 11
... satire bade translate , And own'd that nine such poets made a Tate . How did they fume , and stamp , and roar , and chafe , And swear not Addison himself was safe . Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles ...
... satire bade translate , And own'd that nine such poets made a Tate . How did they fume , and stamp , and roar , and chafe , And swear not Addison himself was safe . Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles ...
Seite 14
... satire a lampoon , and fiction lie : A lash like mine no honest man shall dread , But all such babbling blockheads in his stead . Let Sporus tremble - A . What ? that thing of silk , Sporus , that mere white curd of ass's milk ? Satire ...
... satire a lampoon , and fiction lie : A lash like mine no honest man shall dread , But all such babbling blockheads in his stead . Let Sporus tremble - A . What ? that thing of silk , Sporus , that mere white curd of ass's milk ? Satire ...
Seite 17
... and of the duke of Shrewsbury , who had been secretary of state ; neither of whom looked upon a satire on vicious courts as any reflection on those they served in . And , IMITATIONS OF HORACE . 17 Satires and Epistles of Horace, Imitated.
... and of the duke of Shrewsbury , who had been secretary of state ; neither of whom looked upon a satire on vicious courts as any reflection on those they served in . And , IMITATIONS OF HORACE . 17 Satires and Epistles of Horace, Imitated.
Seite 19
... SATIRE I. TO MR FORTESCUE . P THERE are ( I scarce can think it , but am told ) There are to whom my satire seems too bold ; Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough , And something said of Chartres much too rough . The lines are weak ...
... SATIRE I. TO MR FORTESCUE . P THERE are ( I scarce can think it , but am told ) There are to whom my satire seems too bold ; Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough , And something said of Chartres much too rough . The lines are weak ...
Seite 21
... Satire ' s my weapon , but I'm too discreet To run a - muck , and tilt at all I meet ; I only wear it in a land of Hectors , Thieves , supercargoes , sharpers , and directors . Save but our army ! and let Jove incrust Swords , pikes ...
... Satire ' s my weapon , but I'm too discreet To run a - muck , and tilt at all I meet ; I only wear it in a land of Hectors , Thieves , supercargoes , sharpers , and directors . Save but our army ! and let Jove incrust Swords , pikes ...
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ancient bard Bavius behold bless'd Boileau called charms CHIG church Cibber court cried critics Curll Dennis divine dull Dulness dunce Dunciad e'en Edmund Curll epic epigram EPISTLE Essay Essay on Criticism eyes fame fate flatter folly fool genius gentle gentleman Gildon give glory goddess grace grave hath head heart Heaven hero Homer honour Horace Iliad king knave laureate learned Leonard Welsted letters live lord lord Bolingbroke muse never numbers o'er Ogilby once panegyric person pleased poem poet poet's poetry Pope praise prince printed queen racter rage REMARKS rhyme saith satire scholiast Scribl Scriblerus sense Shakspeare shine sing SITY smile song soul sure thee things thou thought throne tion town true truth UNIV verse Virgil virtue Westminster Abbey Whig whore words writ write
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 54 - True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
Seite 6 - I said; Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The Dog-star rages! nay 'tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Seite 106 - twixt reading and Bohea, To muse, and spill her solitary Tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon...
Seite 12 - Till grown more frugal in his riper days, He paid some bards with port, and some with praise ; To some a dry rehearsal was assign'd, And others (harder still) he paid in kind.
Seite 11 - 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...
Seite 6 - And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song) What drop or nostrum can this plague remove ? Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love ? A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped, If foes, they write, — if friends, they read me dead.
Seite 280 - Some gentle James, to bless the land again ; To stick the doctor's chair into the throne, Give law to words, or war with words alone, Senates and courts with Greek and Latin rule, And turn the council to a grammar school ! For sure, if Dulness sees a grateful day, 'Tis in the shade of arbitrary sway.
Seite 14 - What ? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of Ass's milk ? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel ? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel ? P.
Seite 306 - In vain ! They gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. 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.
Seite 305 - 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.