The Works of Alexander Pope, Том 4J. Murray, 1882 |
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Друга издања - Прикажи све
Чести термини и фразе
Addison alludes allusion Ambrose Philips ancient appears Arbuthnot Bavius Bentley Book booksellers called character Church Cibber Codrus couplet Court critics Curl Curll Dennis died Dryden Duke dull Dulness Dunces Dunciad Earl edition of 1729 Editor's note Elkanah Settle epigram Epistle Essay on Criticism ev'ry eyes fool genius gentle Gildon Goddess hath head Heav'n hero Homer honour Horace Iliad Imitation John King Lady Laureate learned Leonard Welsted letter Lewis Theobald lines London Lord Lord Hervey Miscellanies Mist's Journal Moral Essay Muse nature never o'er octavo Oldmixon Opera Ovid passage person play poem poet poet's Poetry POPE and WARBURTON Pope's praise Preface printed published quarto Queen reader satire says SCRIBLERUS POPE Shakespeare soul Swift thee Theobald things thou thro Tibbald tion translation VARIORUM VERSE Virg Virgil WARBURTON 1743 Welsted words writ writing written
Популарни одломци
Страница 223 - Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word ; Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Страница 380 - Statesman, yet friend to truth ! of soul sincere. In action faithful, and in honour clear ! Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend ; Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, Prais'd, wept, and honour'd by the Muse he lov'd.
Страница 403 - Thus let me live, unseen, unknown. Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
Страница 405 - Hark! they whisper; Angels say, Sister Spirit, come away. What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Страница 316 - Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it : his mind and hand went together ; and what he thought, he uttered with that easiness, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers.
Страница 196 - To ask, to guess, to know, as they commence,' As Fancy opens the quick springs of Sense, We ply the Memory, we load the brain, Bind rebel Wit, and double chain on chain, Confine the thought, to exercise the breath; And keep them in the pale of Words till death...
Страница 405 - VITAL spark of heavenly flame ! Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame ! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying : Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond nature ! cease thy strife, And let me languish into life ! Hark, they whisper ; angels say,
Страница 148 - To where Fleet-ditch with disemboguing streams Rolls the large tribute of dead dogs to Thames, The king of dykes ! than whom no sluice of mud With deeper sable blots the silver flood.
Страница 403 - 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.
Страница 191 - When lo! a Harlot form soft sliding by, With mincing step, small voice, and languid eye: Foreign her air, her robe's discordant pride In patch-work flutt'ring, and her head aside: By singing Peers up-held on either hand, She tripp'd and laugh'd, too pretty much to stand: Cast on the prostrate Nine a scornful look, Then thus in quaint Recitative spoke.