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The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope: With His Last Corrections ..., Том 5
Повний перегляд - 1804
The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope with His Last Corrections ..., Том 1
Повний перегляд - 1787
Abelard Addison ALEXANDER POPE ancient ANTISTROPHE appear appear'd bard beauty behold blush breast breath bright charms courser crown'd Cynthus delight Dryden Dunciad earth eclogues envy eternal Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fire fix'd flames flocks flood flow'rs forests gales genius grace groves hear heart heav'n Homer honour Iliad immortal inspire kind lays live Lord Bolingbroke lov'd lover lyre Mac Flecknoe mournful Muses nature numbers nymph o'er once pastoral Phaon Phoebus plains poem poet poetry Pope Pope's pow'r praise pray'r resound rise rocks sacred Sappho satire scene SEMICHORUS shades shepherds shine shore sighs silver sing Sir Richard Steele skies soft song soul spring strains streams sung swains sylvan tears tender thee Theocritus thine thou thought throne translation trees trembling tuneful verses Virgil wand'ring wat'ry weep winds Windsor write youth
Сторінка 21 - 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...
Сторінка 21 - Dreading ev'n fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little Senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars ev'ry 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?
Сторінка 178 - And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast: There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground now sacred by thy relics made. So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.
Сторінка 21 - 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...
Сторінка 176 - Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes, The glorious fault of angels and of gods; Thence to their images on earth it flows, And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows.
Сторінка 124 - The swain in barren deserts with surprise Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
Сторінка 17 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Сторінка 123 - Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born ! See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring, With all the incense of the breathing spring...
Сторінка 125 - The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead : The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
Сторінка 166 - Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n, And mild as op'ning gleams of promis'd heav'n.