The poetical works of A. Pope: including his translation of Homer , to which is prefixed the life of the author (Google eBook)

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J.J. Woodward, 1836 - Poetry - 442 pages
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Page 57 - ... attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away. In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation: And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Page 69 - And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis and the fall of Rome. Then cease, bright nymph ! to mourn thy ravish'd hair, Which adds new glory to the shining sphere ! Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost. For, after all. the murders of your eye, When, after millions slain, yourself shall die ; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust ; This Lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame,...
Page 52 - See from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings : Short is his joy; he feels the fiery -wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah ! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes, The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
Page 58 - Some beauties -yet no precepts can declare, For there's a happiness as well as care. Music resembles poetry ; in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master-hand alone can reach. If, where the rules not far enough extend, (Since rules were made but to promote their end,) Some lucky license answer to the full Th" intent proposed, that license is a rule.
Page 59 - She gives in large recruits of needful pride ; For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind : Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of sense.
Page 68 - Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew) That, while my nostrils draw the vital air, This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.
Page 69 - Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw. The gnomes direct, to every atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, And the high dome re-echoes to his nose. " Now meet thy fate," incensed Belinda cried, And drew a deadly bodkin from her side.
Page xx - Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet ; that quality without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert ; that energy which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates ; the superiority must, with some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred, that of this poetical vigour Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more : for every other writer since Milton must give place to Pope ; and even of Dryden it must be said, that, if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not better...
Page 51 - See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, And break upon thee in a flood of day ! No more the rising Sun shall gild the morn, Nor...
Page 102 - Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

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