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Addison afterwards appear attention beauties called character considered copy criticism delight desire discovered Dryden edition English epitaph Essay ev'ry excellence expected expression eyes fair fame fire friendship gave genius give given grace hand head heart Homer honour hope hundred Iliad kind known lays learning less letters light lines living Lord lost mean mind muse nature never notes numbers o'er once opinion original pastoral performances perhaps plain pleasing poem poet poetry Pope Pope's praise present pride printed published rage readers reason received remarks rise sacred satire seems sense shade shew shine sing skies sometimes soon supposed sure tell thee things thought tion told translation true truth verse virtue volume wish write written
Page 130 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire.
Page 145 - While from the bounded level of our mind Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind : But more...
Page li - Then he instructed a young nobleman, that the best poet in England was Mr. Pope (a Papist), who had begun a translation of Homer into English verse, for which he must have them all subscribe. "For," says he, "the author shall not begin to print till I have a thousand guineas for him.
Page cxii - Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those of Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope.
Page 137 - Ten Censure wrong for one who Writes amiss ; A Fool might once himself alone expose, Now One in Verse makes many more in Prose.
Page lxxxii - Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? Who would not weep if Atticus were he?
Page 145 - A little learning is a dangerous thing ; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring : There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.
Page 130 - Happy the man. whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound. Content to breathe his native air. In his own ground Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with 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 cxx - Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.