The works of Alexander Pope, with notes and illustrations, by himself and others. To which are added, a new life of the author [&c.] by W. Roscoe, Band 4

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Seite 425 - For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right...
Seite 48 - 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 340 - 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...
Seite 284 - His gardens next your admiration call; On every side you look, behold the wall! No pleasing intricacies intervene, No artful wildness to perplex the scene ; Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other.
Seite 23 - 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) Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; A mighty maze!
Seite 34 - In Pride, in reas'ning Pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods. Aspiring to be Gods, if Angels fell, Aspiring to be Angels, Men rebel: And who but wishes to invert the laws Of Order, sins against th
Seite 97 - Praise ye him, sun and moon : Praise him, all ye stars of light. Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, And ye waters that be above the heavens. Let them praise the name of the LORD: For he commanded, and they were created.
Seite 54 - All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Seite 30 - The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Seite 43 - What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam : Of smell, the headlong lioness between, And hound sagacious on the tainted green : Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, To that which warbles through the vernal wood ? The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine ! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line : In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?

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