The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq: In Four Volumes Complete. With His Last Corrections, Additions, and Improvements. Carefully Collated and Compared with Former Editions: Together with Notes from the Various Critics and CommentatorsEditor, and sold, 1778 |
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Seite 4
... paffion , but that short and flowing : the expreffion humble , yet as pure as the language will afford ; neat , but not florid ; eafy , and yet lively . In fhort , the fable , manners , thoughts , and expreffions , are full of the ...
... paffion , but that short and flowing : the expreffion humble , yet as pure as the language will afford ; neat , but not florid ; eafy , and yet lively . In fhort , the fable , manners , thoughts , and expreffions , are full of the ...
Seite 23
... paffion , and o'erflows with tears ; The winds and trees and floods her death deplore , Daphne , our grief ! our glory now no more ! But fee ! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high , Above the clouds , above the ftarry sky ! Eternal ...
... paffion , and o'erflows with tears ; The winds and trees and floods her death deplore , Daphne , our grief ! our glory now no more ! But fee ! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high , Above the clouds , above the ftarry sky ! Eternal ...
Seite 109
... paffion , and the vain man's toaft ? Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford , Why Angels call'd , and Angel - like ador'd ? Why round our coaches croud the white - glov'd Beaus , Why bows the fide - box from its inmoft rows ? How ...
... paffion , and the vain man's toaft ? Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford , Why Angels call'd , and Angel - like ador'd ? Why round our coaches croud the white - glov'd Beaus , Why bows the fide - box from its inmoft rows ? How ...
Seite 123
... paffion move , Once the dear objects of my guilty love ; All other loves are loft in only thine , Ah youth ungrateful to a flame like mine ! N. Whom would not all thofe blooming charms furprize , Those heav'nly looks , and dear ...
... paffion move , Once the dear objects of my guilty love ; All other loves are loft in only thine , Ah youth ungrateful to a flame like mine ! N. Whom would not all thofe blooming charms furprize , Those heav'nly looks , and dear ...
Seite 126
... paffion found , I rend my treffes , and my breaft I wound , I rave , then weep , I curfe , and then complain , Now fwell to rage , now melt in tears again . Not fiercer pangs diftract the mournful dame , Whofe firft - born infant feeds ...
... paffion found , I rend my treffes , and my breaft I wound , I rave , then weep , I curfe , and then complain , Now fwell to rage , now melt in tears again . Not fiercer pangs diftract the mournful dame , Whofe firft - born infant feeds ...
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beft bleffing bleft breaft cauſe charms crown'd Dæmons Dryope e'er eaſe Eclogues Eteocles ev'n ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fame fate fatire feem fenfe fhades fhall fhining fhould fide fighs filent filver fince fing fire firft firſt fix'd fkies flain flame fleep flow'rs foft fome fool foon forefts foul fpring ftands ftate ftill ftreams fuch fung fure fwell grace groves happineſs heart heav'n himſelf honour huſband itſelf juft king laft laſt lefs loft lord moft Mufe mufic muft muſt nature night numbers nymph o'er paffion Phoebus plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure poet pow'r praiſe pride rage raiſe reafon reft reign rife Sappho ſcene ſenſe ſhade ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſpread ſtill Sylphs tears Thebes thee thefe Theocritus theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro trembling Twas uſe virtue whofe whoſe wife youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 57 - 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 256 - 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...
Seite 337 - To build, to plant, whatever you intend, To rear the column, or the arch to bend, To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot; In all, let Nature never be forgot.
Seite 101 - What boots the regal circle on his head, His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread; That long behind he trails his pompous robe, And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe? The baron now his diamonds pours apace; Th...
Seite 288 - Pursues that chain which links th' immense design, Joins heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine; Sees, that no being any bliss can know, But touches some above, and some below; Learns, from this union of the rising whole, The first, last purpose of the human soul; And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, All end, in love of God, and love of man.
Seite 294 - Let not this weak, unknowing hand Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land On each I judge thy foe.
Seite 284 - Go ! if your ancient, but ignoble blood Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood, Go ! and pretend your family is young, Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ? Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards. Look next on greatness : say where greatness lies, Where, but among the heroes and the wise...
Seite 92 - And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white.
Seite 279 - Parnassian laurels yield, Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? • Where grows ? — where grows it not? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil...
Seite 330 - In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas!