Selected Poems of Alexander Pope

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F. S. Crofts & Company, 1926 - 271 Seiten
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Seite 74 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent : Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : To him no high, no low, no great, no small ; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Seite 13 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar : When Ajax strives some rock's vast- weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow ; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Seite 35 - Who gave the ball or paid the visit last; One speaks the glory of the British Queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes: At every word a reputation dies.
Seite 155 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
Seite 66 - AWAKE, my St. John ! leave all meaner things To low ambition and -the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us and to die...
Seite 30 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride 15 Might hide her faults, if Belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
Seite 118 - I give and I devise" (old Euclio said, And sigh'd) "my lands and tenements to Ned." Your money, Sir? "My money, Sir! what, all? Why,— if I must— (then wept) I give it Paul.
Seite 1 - Happy the man*, whose wish and care 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.
Seite 43 - Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign. Methinks already I your tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost ! no How shall I then your helpless fame defend? 'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend ! And shall this prize, th...
Seite 116 - Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, Whose ruling Passion was the Lust of Praise; Born with whate'er could win it from the Wise, Women and Fools must like him or he dies; Tho' wond'ring Senates hung on all he spoke, The Club must hail him master of the joke.

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