The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Esq., to which is Prefixed the Life of the Author, Band 2 |
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Seite 54
In vain bad rhymers all mankind reject , They treat themselves with most profound
respect ; ' Tis to small purpose that your tongue , Each , praised within , is happy
all day long : But how severely with themselves proceed The men who write ...
In vain bad rhymers all mankind reject , They treat themselves with most profound
respect ; ' Tis to small purpose that your tongue , Each , praised within , is happy
all day long : But how severely with themselves proceed The men who write ...
Seite 69
... courts ( though there be few Better pictures of vice ) teach me virtue . ' He like lo
a high - stretch'd lutcstring squeaks , ' O sir ' Tis sweet to talk of kings . ' ' At
Westminster ' “ Then happy man who shows the tombs ! ' SATIRES OF DONNE .
69.
... courts ( though there be few Better pictures of vice ) teach me virtue . ' He like lo
a high - stretch'd lutcstring squeaks , ' O sir ' Tis sweet to talk of kings . ' ' At
Westminster ' “ Then happy man who shows the tombs ! ' SATIRES OF DONNE .
69.
Seite 70
Then happy man who shows the tombs ! ' said I , “ He dwells amidst the royal
family ; He every day from king to king can walk , Of all our Harrys , all our
Edwards talk ; And get , by speaking truth of monarchs dead , What few can of the
living ...
Then happy man who shows the tombs ! ' said I , “ He dwells amidst the royal
family ; He every day from king to king can walk , Of all our Harrys , all our
Edwards talk ; And get , by speaking truth of monarchs dead , What few can of the
living ...
Seite 95
Was ever such a happy swain ? He stuffs , and swills , and stuffs again . " I'm
quite ashamed - ' tis mighty rude To eat so much — but all's so good . I have a
thousand thanks to give My lord alone knows how to live . ' No sooner said , but
from ...
Was ever such a happy swain ? He stuffs , and swills , and stuffs again . " I'm
quite ashamed - ' tis mighty rude To eat so much — but all's so good . I have a
thousand thanks to give My lord alone knows how to live . ' No sooner said , but
from ...
Seite 103
In these gay thoughts the loves and graces shine , And all the writer lives in every
line : His easy art may happy nature seem , Trifles themselves are elegant in him
. Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate , Who without flattery pleased the fair ...
In these gay thoughts the loves and graces shine , And all the writer lives in every
line : His easy art may happy nature seem , Trifles themselves are elegant in him
. Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate , Who without flattery pleased the fair ...
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Beliebte Passagen
Seite 4 - 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 9 - 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 8 - Soft were my numbers ; who could take offence While pure description held the place of sense ? Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, A painted mistress, or a purling stream.
Seite 129 - 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. Calmly he look'd on either life ; and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, Thank'd Heaven that he had liv'd, and that he died.
Seite 5 - A virgin tragedy, an orphan muse.' If I dislike it, 'Furies, death and rage !' If I approve, 'Commend it to the stage.
Seite 304 - 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 4 - 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 9 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease : Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Seite 303 - Before her Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Seite 12 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.