The poetical works of Alexander Pope, with a life, by A. Dyce (Google eBook)

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1863
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Page 82 - Hampton takes its name. Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home : Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take — and sometimes tea.
Page lvii - 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, View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer...
Page lvii - Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, On wings of winds came flying all abroad?
Page 47 - See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ! See future sons and daughters, yet unborn, In crowding ranks on every side arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies...
Page 78 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
Page 44 - And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care, Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air ; Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs, By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ; The tender lambs he raises in his arms, Feeds from his hand and in his bosom warms ; Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, The promised father of the future age.
Page 45 - No more shall nation against nation rise, Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,' Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er ; The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more ; But useless lances into scythes shall bend, And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
Page 117 - For others good, or melt at others woe. What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade !) Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid ? No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier : By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd! What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear.
Page 86 - The berries crackle, and the mill turns round : On shining altars of Japan they raise The silver lamp ; the fiery spirits blaze : From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, While China's earth receives the smoking tide : At once they gratify their scent and taste, And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
Page 79 - But chiefly Love — to Love an altar built, Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt. There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves, And all the trophies of his former loves ; With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre, And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise the fire.

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