The Works of Alexander Pope, Band 1J.F. Dove, St. John's Square, 1822 - 436 Seiten |
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Seite xiv
... o'er the weeping nun has drawn Such artful folds of sacred lawn ; That Love with equal grief and pride Shall see the crime he strives to hide ; And softly drawing back the veil , The god shall to his votaries tell , Each conscious tear ...
... o'er the weeping nun has drawn Such artful folds of sacred lawn ; That Love with equal grief and pride Shall see the crime he strives to hide ; And softly drawing back the veil , The god shall to his votaries tell , Each conscious tear ...
Seite 79
... O'er hills and dales , and now I lose the course , Nor can the rapid sight pursue the flying horse . Oh could thy Virgil from his orb look down , He'd view a courser that might match his own ! Fir'd with the sport , and eager for the ...
... O'er hills and dales , and now I lose the course , Nor can the rapid sight pursue the flying horse . Oh could thy Virgil from his orb look down , He'd view a courser that might match his own ! Fir'd with the sport , and eager for the ...
Seite 82
... o'er their head , and laughs behind the scene . In Fame's fair Temple , o'er the boldest wits Enshrin'd on high the sacred Virgil sits ; And sits in measures such as Virgil's Muse To place thee near him might be fond to choose . How ...
... o'er their head , and laughs behind the scene . In Fame's fair Temple , o'er the boldest wits Enshrin'd on high the sacred Virgil sits ; And sits in measures such as Virgil's Muse To place thee near him might be fond to choose . How ...
Seite 83
... o'er the rest : The shades resound with song - O softly tread , While a whole season warbles round my head . 70 76 This to my Friend - and when a friend inspires , My silent harp its master's hand requires ; Shakes off the dust , and ...
... o'er the rest : The shades resound with song - O softly tread , While a whole season warbles round my head . 70 76 This to my Friend - and when a friend inspires , My silent harp its master's hand requires ; Shakes off the dust , and ...
Seite 85
... o'er the field of death ; as fierce he turns , Keen flash his arms , and all the Hero burns ; • With martial stalk , and more than mortal might , He strides along , and meets the Gods in fight : Then the pale Titans , chain'd on burning ...
... o'er the field of death ; as fierce he turns , Keen flash his arms , and all the Hero burns ; • With martial stalk , and more than mortal might , He strides along , and meets the Gods in fight : Then the pale Titans , chain'd on burning ...
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Addison admirable Æneid ancient appears Aristotle beauty Belinda Boileau Book Canto Cato censure character critic Dryden Dunciad Eclogues edition epic Epistle Essay Euripides Ev'n ev'ry excellent eyes fair fame fate flow'rs genius give Gnome grace groves hair heav'n Homer honour Horace Iliad IMITATIONS judgment Lady language learned Letters lines living Lock Lord Lord Lansdown Lycidas maid MICHI Milton mind mortal Muse nature never NOTES numbers nymph o'er observation Ovid painted Paradise Lost passage Pastorals piece Pindar pleas'd poem poet poetical poetry Pope pow'r praise quæ Quintilian REMARKS ridicule rise RSITY sacred satire says sense shade Shakspeare shew shining sing SITY skies Sophocles soul spirit Sylphs taste Thalestris thee Theocritus thing thou thought tion tragedy translation trembling true Umbriel VARIATIONS verse Virg Virgil Voltaire writing written wrote
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 215 - 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.
Seite 227 - To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. Some few in that, but numbers err in this, Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss; A fool might once himself alone expose, Now one in verse makes many more in prose. 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
Seite 375 - Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See fierce Belinda on the baron flies, With more than usual lightning in her eyes: Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
Seite 276 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense. 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.
Seite 269 - Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found...
Seite 237 - First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same...
Seite 343 - Now awful beauty puts on all its arms ; The fair each moment rises in her charms, Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, And calls forth all the wonders of her face : Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
Seite 218 - 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?
Seite 219 - VITAL spark of heavenly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame ! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, O, the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life! Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away!
Seite 153 - The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. Lo, Earth receives him from the bending skies! Sink down, ye mountains! and ye valleys, rise! With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay! Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way! The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold! He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eyeball pour the day: Tis he th...