The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Esq., to which is Prefixed the Life of the Author, Band 2 |
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Seite 30
Barnard in spirit , sense , and truth abounds ; * Pray then what wants he ? '
Fourscore thousand A pension , or such harness for a slave [ pounds ; As Bug
now has , and Dorimant would have . Barnard , thou art 3 , cit with all thy worth ;
But Bug ...
Barnard in spirit , sense , and truth abounds ; * Pray then what wants he ? '
Fourscore thousand A pension , or such harness for a slave [ pounds ; As Bug
now has , and Dorimant would have . Barnard , thou art 3 , cit with all thy worth ;
But Bug ...
Seite 48
But not this part of the poetic state Alone , deserves the favour of the great : Think
of those authors , sir , who would rely More on a reader's sense than gazer's eye .
Or who shall wander where the Muses sing ? Who climb their mountain , or ...
But not this part of the poetic state Alone , deserves the favour of the great : Think
of those authors , sir , who would rely More on a reader's sense than gazer's eye .
Or who shall wander where the Muses sing ? Who climb their mountain , or ...
Seite 53
Twas , “ Sir , your law ' - and ' Sir , your eloquence , ' * Yours , Cowper's manner '
— and yours , Talbot's sense . Thus we dispose of all poetic merit , Yours Milton's
genius , and mine Homer's spirit . Call Tibbald Shakspeare , and he'll swear ...
Twas , “ Sir , your law ' - and ' Sir , your eloquence , ' * Yours , Cowper's manner '
— and yours , Talbot's sense . Thus we dispose of all poetic merit , Yours Milton's
genius , and mine Homer's spirit . Call Tibbald Shakspeare , and he'll swear ...
Seite 54
... new be English ages hence ; ( For use will father what's begot by sense . ) Pour
the full tide of eloquence along , Serenely pure , and yet divinely strong , Rich
with the treasures of each foreign tongue ; Prune the luxuriant , the uncouth refine
...
... new be English ages hence ; ( For use will father what's begot by sense . ) Pour
the full tide of eloquence along , Serenely pure , and yet divinely strong , Rich
with the treasures of each foreign tongue ; Prune the luxuriant , the uncouth refine
...
Seite 59
Yes ; thank my stars ! as early as I knew This town , I had the sense to hate it too :
Yet here , as e'en in hell , there must be still One giant - vice , so excellently ill ,
That all beside one pities , not abhors : As who knows Sappho , smiles at other ...
Yes ; thank my stars ! as early as I knew This town , I had the sense to hate it too :
Yet here , as e'en in hell , there must be still One giant - vice , so excellently ill ,
That all beside one pities , not abhors : As who knows Sappho , smiles at other ...
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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.