The works of Alexander Pope. With his last corrections, additions, and improvements; together with all his notes: pr. verbatim from the octavo ed. of mr. Warburton (Google eBook)

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Page 16 - 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.
Page 55 - Twin'd with the wreaths 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...
Page 3 - The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar; Eye Nature's walks, shoot Folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise; Laugh where we must, be candid where we can; But vindicate the ways of God to man.
Page 18 - With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side, With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride, He hangs between, in doubt to act or rest; In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err...
Page 29 - Fools ! who from hence into the notion fall, That vice or virtue there is none at all. If white and black blend, soften, and unite A thousand ways, is there no black or white ? Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain ; 'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.
Page 60 - tis the price of toil; The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil, The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain. The good man may be weak, be indolent ; Nor is his claim to plenty, but content.
Page 63 - 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.
Page 146 - Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Page 3 - 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 ! but not without a plan ; A wild where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot, Or garden tempting with forbidden fruit.
Page 160 - 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.

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