Content
The sense they humbly take upon content.
Poet and satirist, 1688-1744
Cited as Pope. — 1081 quotations
'Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great.
The very acme and pitch of life for epic poetry.
Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul.
He hangs between, in doubt to act or rest.
One wise in council, one in action brave.
For forms of government let fools contest: Whate'er is best administered is best.
Admired as heroes and as gods obeyed.
The aduncity of the beaks of hawks.
Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own.
To smart and agonize at every pore.
With cries and agonies of wild delight.
That author . . . has an agreeableness that charms us.
Aim'st thou at princes?
How oft ambitious aims are crossed!
Let vernal airs through trembling osiers play.
It was communicated with the air of a secret.
Thy palace fill with insults and alarms.
The needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
O chief! in blood, and now in arms allied.
The virtue nearest to our vice allied.
Hills peep o'er hills, and alps on alps arise.
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
And bid alternate passions fall and rise.
The life of Homer has been written by amassing all the traditions and hints the writers could meet with.
The whole amount of that enormous fame.
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.
They mourned their ancient leader lost.
A fisher next his trembling angle bears.
And antedate the bliss above.
Sacred vows . . . applied to grisly Pluto.
A cobbler aproned, and a parson gowned.
A tale extremely apropos.
Those arduous paths they trod.
Yonder argent fields above.
Blest with each grace of nature and of art.
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts.
So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Artful in speech, in action, and in mind.
Homer has been reckoned an ascititious name.
Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit.
[Craggs] with aspect open shall erect his head.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; Aspiring to be angels, men rebel.
The thorny wilds the woodmen fierce assail.
While nymphs take treats, or assignations give.
Four assistants who his labor share.
Music her soft assuasive voice applies.
Trembling they stand while Jove assumes the throne.
The god assumed his native form again.
In am so atmospherical a creature.
The murderer fell, and blood atoned for blood.
Or each atone his guilty love with life.
Arts . . . attempered to the lyre.
[A] sense of fame, the attendant of noble spirits.
Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys ?
The auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts appear.
Averse alike to flatter, or offend.
Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire.
For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.
The strong antipathy of good to bad.
A radiant baldric o'er his shoulder tied Sustained the sword that glittered at his side.
Send me, gods, a whole hog barbecued.
'Twixt that [instinct] and reason, what a nice barrier!
If no basis bear my rising name.
To be contents his natural desire.
The doubtful beam long nods from side to side.
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
His faithful dog shall bear him company.
But man is born to bear.
But of this frame, the bearings and the ties, The strong connections, nice dependencies.
The yellow carp, in scales bedropped with gold.
Vast chain of being! which from God began.
Ye nymphs of Solyma ! begin the song.
A small part of what he left behind him.
A parson much bemused in beer.
But when to mischief mortals bend their will.
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies.
To all beside, as much an empty shade, An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead.
Beware of all, but most beware of man !
A thing beyond us, even before our death.
While the long funerals blacken all the way.
Those who from our labors heap their board, Blaspheme their feeder and forget their lord.
And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, Because the insult's not on man, but God ?
To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day.
For me the balm shall bleed.
Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door.
The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head.
I find my heart hardened and blunt to new impressions.
Wedged whole ages in a bodkin's eye.
I wanted but a black gown and a salary to be as mere a bookworm as any there.
To happy convents bosomed deep in vines.
Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds.
Here the bright crocus and blue violet grew.
This snuffbox -- on the hinge see brilliants shine.
Imbrowned with native bronze, lo! Henley stands.
You have commissioned me to paint your shop, and I have done my best to brush you up like your neighbors.
All the Jews, jobbers, bubblers, subscribers, projectors, etc.
Not when a gilt buffet's reflected pride Turns you from sound philosophy aside.
But, to the world no bugbear is so great As want of figure and a small estate.
The groan still deepens, and the combat burns.
And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms.
Her buskined virgins traced the dewy lawn.
Ambition sighed: she found it vain to trust The faithless column, and the crumbling bust.
Your wine locked up, your butler strolled abroad.
By land, by water, they renew the charge.
The early feast and late carouse.
You think this madness but a common case.
Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin.
And which more blest? who chained his country, say Or he whose virtue sighed to lose a day?
Think what an equipage thou hast in air, And view with scorn two pages and a chair.
The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, And wins (O shameful chance!) the Queen of Hearts.
Know well each Ancient's proper character; His fable, subject, scope in every page; Religion, Country, genius of his Age.
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Music the fiercest grief can charm.
Snuff, or fan, supply each pause of chat, With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
old politicians chew wisdom past.
He takes his chirping pint, he cracks his jokes.
Choose me for a humble friend.
Other planets circle other suns.
One truth is clear; whatever is, is right.
Hark! the numbers soft and clear Gently steal upon the ear.
Statesman, yet friend to truth! in soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honor clear.
Without a seal, wafer, or any closure whatever.
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.
This clue once found unravels all the rest.
I thought myself cocksure of the horse which he readily promised me.
Silence! coeval with eternity!
As if it were not enough to have outdone all your coevals in wit.
Welcome the coming, speed the parting, guest.
I must translate and comment.
There, with commutual zeal, we both had strove.
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words -- health, peace, and competence.
With mean complacence ne'er betray your trust.
There are to whom my satire seems too bold: Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough.
And, to complete her bliss, a fool for mate.
We find them complotting together, and contriving a new scene of miseries to the Trojans.
Let me compose Something in verse as well as prose.
The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate, Composed his posture, and his look sedate.
Some to conceit alone their works confine, And glittering thoughts struck out at every line.
The thief condemned, in law already dead.
Tall thriving trees confessed the fruitful mold.
Your eyes shall witness and confirm my tale.
Till one wide conflagration swallows all.
Confused and sadly she at length replied.
Congenial souls! whose life one avarice joins.
He fills, he bounds, connects and equals all.
We conquered France, but felt our captive's charms.
An honest mind is not in the power of a dishonest: to break its peace there must be some guilt or consciousness.
Such is the world's great harmony that springs From union, order, full consent of things.
Atrides, parting for the Trojan war, Consigned the youthful consort to his care.
Health consists with temperance alone.
Show me one that has it in his power To act consistent with himself an hour.
And empty heads console with empty sound.
The chiefs around, In silence wrapped, in consternation drowned. Attend the stern reply.
And to be dull was construed to be good.
The sense they humbly take upon content.
Of man, who dares in pomp with Jove contest?
My continuation of the version of Statius.
You know how to make yourself happy by only continuing such a life as you have been long accustomed to lead.
Each from each contract new strength and light.
And now the almighty father of the gods Convenes a council in the blest abodes.
he uses the different dialects as one who had been conversant with them all.
Formed by thy converse happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
First, robed in white, the nymph intent adores, With head uncovered, the cosmetic powers.
O great in action and in council wise.
That counterworks each folly and caprice.
The bounding steed courses the dusty plain.
What differ more, you cry, than crown and cowl?
With cowlike udders and with oxlike eyes.
Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs, nature meant but fools.
A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.
I published, because I was told I might please such as it was a credit to please.
The steer lion at one crib shall meet.
No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
And make each day a critic on the last.
Cavil you may, but never criticise.
Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog, And the hoarse nation croaked.
A crowd of islands.
Curling smokes from village tops are seen.
On impious realms and barbarous kings impose Thy plagues, and curse 'em with such sons as those.
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly, With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way.
He saved the lives of thousands by his manner of cutting for the stone.
Nor, like a puppy [have I] daggled through the town.
You are not so arrant a critic as to damn them [the works of modern poets] . . . without hearing.
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering teach the rest to sneer.
Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?
Dash the proud gamester in his gilded car.
What Time would spare, from Steel receives its date.
When life awakes, and dawns at every line.
These tender circumstances diffuse a dawn of serenity over the soul.
Ah, friend! to dazzle, let the vain design.
And the last joy was dearer than the rest.
These eyes behold The deathful scene.
A deathlike slumber, and a dead repose.
And to debase the sons, exalts the sires.
Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate.
By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed.
Who shall decide, when doctors disagree?
Crete's ample fields diminish to our eye; Before the Boreal blasts the vessels fly.
O goddess, say, shall I deduce my rhymes From the dire nation in its early times?
Deduct what is but vanity, or dress.
Make fair deductions; see to what they mount.
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound.
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods.
So by false learning is good sense defaced.
Regardless of our merit or default.
Trust not yourself; but, your defects to know, Make use of every friend -- and every foe.
These degenerate days.
Yet time ennobles or degrades each line.
O deign to visit our forsaken seats.
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind.
The exalted mind All sense of woe delivers to the wind.
At length corruption, like a general flood . . . Shall deluge all.
All my demurs but double his attacks; At last he whispers, “Do; and we go snacks.”
Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies?
And ever-living lamps depend in rows.
Heaven forming each on other to depend.
As some sad turtle his lost love deplores.
Let an ambassador deport himself in the most graceful manner befor a prince.
And on the suitors let thy wrath descend.
More than mortal grace Speaks thee descendent of ethereal race.
A dreary desert and a gloomy waste.
“An 't please your honor,” quoth the peasant, “This same dessert is not so pleasant.”
Like following life through creatures you dissect, You lose it in the moment you detect.
Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take, May boldly deviate from the common track.
The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.
I thought, devised, and Pallas heard my prayer.
On sounding wings a dexter eagle flew.
Dexterous the craving, fawning crowd to quit.
Not so, when diadem'd with rays divine.
And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade.
[Wat'ry fowl] now dip their pinions in the briny deep.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee; ll chance, direction, which thou canst not see.
What made directors cheat in South-Sea year?
The creature's at his dirty work again.
Who shall decide, when doctors disagree?
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose.
Or discomposed the headdress of a prude.
Satire 's my weapon, but I 'm too discreet To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.
How my soul is moved with just disdain!
Shall heap with honors him they now disgrace.
Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.
So disingenuous as not to confess them [faults].
Some whirl the disk, and some the javelin dart.
So flies a herd of beeves, that hear, dismayed, The lions roaring through the midnight shade.
Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose soul No fear could daunt, nor earth nor hell control.
Now the last ruin the whole host appalls; Now Greece has trembled in her wooden walls.
Fowls obscene dismembered his remains.
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.
Where light disports in ever mingling dyes.
All ranged in order and disposed with grace.
Impatience of bearing the least affront or disrespect.
Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.
Soft showers distilled, and suns grew warm in vain.
Or o'er the glebe distill the kindly rain.
My distracted mind.
Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks.
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail.
I have been pursued, dogged, and waylaid.
Approach the dome, the social banquet share.
Ere Hector meets his doom.
What dust we dote on, when 't is man we love.
To admire superior sense, and doubt their own!
A needless Alexandrine ends the song That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
There sober thought pursued the amusing theme, Till Fancy colored it and formed a dream.
Men of pleasure, dress, and gallantry.
Drifts of rising dust involve the sky.
Let me . . . drink delicious poison from thy eye.
Shield pressed on shield, and man drove man along.
Go drive the deer and drag the finny prey.
These epistles will become less dry, more susceptible of ornament.
A man of wealth is dubbed a man of worth.
And gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
In durance, exile, Bedlam or the mint.
What earthly benefit can be the result?
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance.
That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow.
The woods shall answer, and the echo ring.
Hills whose tops were edged with groves.
The eternal art educing good from ill.
In a slothful peace both courage will effeminate and manners corrupt.
We prize the stronger effort of his power.
O, thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate, Too soon dejected, and dejected, and too soon elate.
Silence that spoke and eloquence of eyes.
O Death, all-eloquent! You only prove What dust we dote on when 't is man we love.
Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then, hid in shades, eludes he eager swain.
Elusive of the bridal day, she gives Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
Those tears eternal that embalm the dead.
No weeping orphan saw his father's stores Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors.
His house embosomed in the grove.
The whole employ of body and of mind.
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray.
Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty praise.
Go, soar with Plato to the empyreal sphere.
To shun the encounter of the vulgar crowd.
Unblamed through life, lamented in thy end.
And such were praised who but endeavored well.
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage.
A custom was among the ancients of proposing an enigma at festivals.
Which from the first has shone on ages past, Enlights the present, and shall warm the last.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
So spoke the Dame, but no applause ensued.
Beneath a sculptured arch he sits enthroned.
Envy, to which the ignoble mind's a slave, Is emulation in the learned or brave.
First strip off all her equipage of Pride.
His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view Superior worlds, and look all nature through.
And figs from standard and espalier join.
Nor let the essences exhale.
I do not know, to this hour, what it is that has estranged him from me.
Vast chain of being, which from God began, Natures ethereal, human, angel, man.
Thus he, though conscious of the ethereal guest, Answered evasive of the sly request.
And all the question (wrangle e'er so long), Is only this, if God has placed him wrong.
And heard thy everlasting yawn confess The pains and penalties of idleness.
More wise, more learned, more just, more everything.
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thine eyes
With chemic art exalts the mineral powers.
Observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair.
Then peers grew proud in horsemanship t' excel.
That proud exception to all nature's laws.
Expunge the whole, or lip the excrescent parts.
And in our own (excuse some courtly stains.) No whiter page than Addison remains.
Less fragrant scents the unfolding rose exhales.
Exhibiting a miserable example of the weakness of mind and body.
The smooth expanse of crystal lakes.
Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies.
While explectives their feeble aid to join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs.
Mr. Phillips did express with much indignation against me, one evening.
Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts.
God in externals could not place content.
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
Gilded clouds, while we gaze upon them, faint before the eye.
If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall.
Go ! and pretend your family is young.
Fast by the throne obsequious Fame resides.
The whizzing arrow sings, And bears thy fate, Antinous, on its wings.
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
O happy youth! and favored of the skies.
The feast of reason, and the flow of soul.
Teach me to feel another's woe.
He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
And mine as man, who feel for all mankind.
Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow.
Vain shows of love to vail his felon hate.
Ye vigorous swains! while youth ferments your blood.
The human persons are as fictitious as the airy ones.
Ask of yonder argent fields above.
O woman! woman! when to ill thy mind Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend.
A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair.
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray.
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
And bless their critic with a poet's fire.
Does passion still the firmless mind control?
Nor fits it to prolong the feast.
Sat fixed in thought the mighty Stagirite.
Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow.
Smit with the love of sister arts we came, And met congenial, mingling flame with flame.
Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings.
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade.
Proud of a vast extent of flimsy lines.
Every beam new transient colors flings.
They stretch their broad plumes and float upon the wind.
Impetuous spread The stream, and smoking flourished o'er his head.
The feast of reason and the flow of soul.
The breathing flute's soft notes are heard around.
No rag, no scrap, of all the beau, or wit, That once so fluttered, and that once so writ.
Deeds then undone my faithful tongue foretold.
A sweet forgetfulness of human care.
'T is education forms the common mind.
Still in constraint your suffering sex remains, Or bound in formal or in real chains.
A bad author deserves better usage than a bad critic; a man may be the former merely through the misfortune of an ill judgment; but he can not be latter without both that and an ill temper.
The goblet crowned, Breathed aromatic fragrancies around.
If success a lover's toil attends, Few ask, if fraud or force attained his ends.
Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick.
Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret.
Break all nerves, and fritter all their sense.
Bless'd with his father's front, his mother's tongue.
As the mind opens, and its functions spread.
For fame with toil we gain, but lose with ease.
Gathering his flowing robe, he seemed to stand In act to speak, and graceful stretched his hand.
When small humors gather to a gout.
Belinda smiled, and all the world was gay.
To get rid of fools and scoundrels.
The giddy motion of the whirling mill.
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn.
Thee shall each alehouse, thee each gillhouse mourn.
Then give thy friend to shed the sacred wine.
This consideration may induce a translator to give in to those general phrases.
Each drinks the juice that glads the heart of man.
There interspersed in lawns and opening glades.
She glares in balls, front boxes, and the ring.
In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen.
In brazed arms, that cast a gleamy ray, Swift through the town the warrior bends his way.
Piecemeal they this acre first, then that; Glean on, and gather up the whole estate.
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees.
Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.
Each individual seeks a several goal.
Angels guard him in the golden mean.
Great Jove and Phoebus graced his noble line.
And graft my love immortal on thy fame !
Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine, And grateful clusters swell.
The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead.
In that soft season when descending showers Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers.
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess.
But in known images of life I guess The labor greater.
True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest. Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
The swain replied, “It never was our guise To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.”
Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust.
On horse, on foot, in hacks and gilded chariots.
And leave half-heard the melancholy tale.
His neck obliquely o'er his shoulder hung.
Formed by thy converse, happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
Some beauties yet no precepts can declare, For there's a happiness, as well as care.
O happiness! our being's end and aim!
The learned is happy Nature to explore, The fool is happy that he knows no more.
Harmonic twang! of leather, horn, and brass.
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense, The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
Thither they bent, and hauled their ships to land.
And the huge columns heave into the sky.
And I his heir in misery alone.
I can not help remarking the resemblance betwixt him and our author.
How shall I then your helpless fame defend?
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
Rather polishing old works than hewing out new.
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate.
Bred to disguise, in public 'tis you hide.
Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike.
There warriors frowning in historic brass.
What histories of toil could I declare!
Justly Cæsar scorns the poet's lays; It is to history he trusts for praise.
What late he called a blessing, now was wit, And God's good providence, a lucky hit.
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme.
They land my goods, and hoist my flying sails.
I sought no homage from the race that write.
Now Strephon daily entertains His Chloe in the homeliest strains.
An honest man's the noblest work of God.
The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned.
Like slashing Bentley with his desperate hook.
Though stiff with hoops, and armed with ribs of whale.
The horrid things they say.
Breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Still humming on, their drowsy course they keep.
To err is human; to forgive, divine.
You humor me when I am sick.
And hurl'd them headlong to their fleet and main.
Tisiphone, that oft hast heard my prayer, Assist, if Œdipus deserve thy care.
Vulcan is called the powerful ignipotent.
The many blunders and illiteracies of the first publishers of his [Shakespeare's] works.
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more.
No story I unfold of public woes, Nor bear advices of impending foes.
In years he seemed, but not impaired by years.
On the impassive ice the lightings play.
Fame, impatient of extremes, decays Not more by envy than excess of praise.
Infallibility and impeccability are two of his attributes.
The surge impelled me on a craggy coast.
Destruction sure o'er all your heads impends.
And nodding Ilion waits th' impending fall.
Then say not man's imperfect, Heaven in fault; Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought.
In his woolly fleece I cling implicit.
Imploring all the gods that reign above.
Thy own importance know, Nor bound thy narrow views to things below.
And to their proper operation still, Ascribe all Good; to their improper, Ill.
The silken fleece impurpled for the loom.
Novel lays attract our ravished ears; But old, the mind inattention hears.
Rich plates of gold the folding doors incase.
From the long records of a distant age, Derive incitements to renew thy rage.
The inclemencies of morning air.
The guard the wretched from the inclement sky.
The piece, you think, is incorrect.
Let fortune do her worst, . . . as long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.
“Give me,” I cried (enough for me), “My bread, and independency!”
Hear how learned Greece her useful rules indites.
To waste long nights in indolent repose.
The poet may be seen inducing his personages in the first Iliad.
Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night!
Through all her train the soft infection ran.
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part.
Nature, informer of the poet's art.
[He] link'd their fetlocks with a golden band Infrangible.
Weeping they bear the mangled heaps of slain, Inhume the natives in their native plain.
And mound inject on mound.
The spear Sung innocent, and spent its force in air.
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone.
O let thy once lov'd friend inscribe thy stone.
To render sleep's soft blessings insincere.
Descend, ye Nine, descend and sing, The breathing instruments inspire.
The courage of Agamemnon is inspirited by the love of empire and ambition.
Instant he flew with hospitable haste.
In various talk the instructive hours they past.
And middle natures, how they long to join, Yet never pass the insuperable line?
While storms vindictive intercept the shore.
When interest calls of all her sneaking train.
The Athenians were put in possession of Salamis by another law, which was cited by Solon, or, as some think, interpolated by him for that purpose.
There, interspersed in lawns and op'ning glades, Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades.
The gathering number, as it moves along, Involves a vast involuntary throng.
Jove crushed the nations with an iron rod.
Dismiss the man, nor irritate the god: Prevent the rage of him who reigns above.
Whether the charmer sinner it, or saint it, If folly grows romantic, I must paint it.
The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew.
And judges job, and bishops bite the town.
Sudden I jogged Ulysses, who was laid Fast by my side.
Pierced through the yielding planks of jointed wood.
And gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
Inclose whole downs in walls, 't is all a joke.
Sad for their loss, but joyful of our life.
Who first his judgment asked, and then a place.
Just of thy word, in every thought sincere.
Those eyes are made so killing.
In soft silence shed the kindly shower.
For how should equal colors do the knack !
If you needs must write, write Caesar's praise; You 'll gain at least a knighthood, or the bays.
Shut, shut the door, good John ! fatigued, I said; Tie up the knocker; say I'm sick, I'm dead.
A knotty point to which we now proceed
The line too labors, and the words move slow.
I grow laconic even beyond laconicism; for sometimes I return only yes, or no, to questionary or petitionary epistles of half a yard long.
This humble praise, lamented shade ! receive.
Others for language all their care express.
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life.
And the blue languish of soft Allia's eye.
And blunder on in business to the last.
In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble Joy.
No wit to flatter left of all his store, No fool to laugh at, which he valued more.
With stays and cordage last he rigged the ship, And rolled on levers, launched her in the deep.
Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines.
In her chaste current oft the goddess laves.
Or, meteorlike, flame lawless through the void.
A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.
Now leave complaining and begin your tea.
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer.
Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand.
The larger here, and there the lesser lambs.
Some wicked wits have libeled all the fair.
'T is from high life high characters are drawn.
The warm life came issuing through the wound.
O, spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born !
Ah, hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn To light the dead.
Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be drest, And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast.
As eager of the chase, the maid Beyond the forest's verdant limits strayed.
As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.
In measured lists to toss the weighty lance.
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
Wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow.
See lofty Lebanon his head advance.
Each fierce logician still expelling Locke.
Thus vanish scepters, coronets, and balls, And leave you on lone woods, or empty walls.
Expunge the whole, or lop the excrescent parts.
Like following life thro' creatures you dissect, You lose it in the moment you detect.
He was but born to try The lot of man -- to suffer and to die.
One common right the great and lowly claims.
The lust of lucre and the dread of death.
Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine.
The machinery, madam, is a term invented by the critics, to signify that part which the deities, angels, or demons, are made to act in a poem.
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
The proper study of mankind is man.
Racked with sciatics, martyred with the stone.
The marvelous fable includes whatever is supernatural, and especially the machines of the gods.
In courtly balls and midnight masquerades.
Yawning rocks in massy fragments fly.
How shall I meet, or how accost, the sage, Unskilled in speech, nor yet mature of age?
Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and maul.
So sweetly mawkish', and so smoothly dull.
Though what he learns he speaks, and may advance Some general maxims, or be right by chance.
Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst, Which meets contempt, or which compassion first.
There high in air, memorial of my name, Fix the smooth oar, and bid me live to fame.
To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known, And every author's merit, but his own.
The winged courser, like a generous horse, Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
Why has not man a microscopic eye?
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall list'ning in mid air suspend their wings.
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen.
Pails high foaming with a milky flood.
Enormous riot and misrule surveyed.
We bend the bow, or wing the missile dart.
Sullen moans, hollow groans.
The mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease.
And bear about the mockery of woe.
In moderation placing all my glory, While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory.
Crowned with an architrave of antique mold.
A work outlasting monumental brass.
With open arms received one poet more.
Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, Or in the natal or the mortal hour.
Take these tears, mortality's relief.
Bring then these blessings to a strict account, Make fair deductions, see to what they mount.
Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year.
The clamorous crowd is hushed with mugs of mum.
Granville commands; your aid, O Muses, bring: What Muse for Granville can refuse to sing?
Thick lightnings flash, the muttering thunder rolls.
But wise through time, and narrative with age.
But looks through nature up to nature's God.
Have we not seen The murdering son ascend his parent's bed, Through violated nature force his way?
Lulled with the sweet nepenthe of a court.
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near.
New to the plow, unpracticed in the trace.
Curious not knowing, not exact but nice.
The difference is too nice Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice.
Be niggards of advice on no pretense.
Nature and nature's laws lay hid in night.
Through the mid seas the nimble pinnace sails.
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.
So from the midmost the nutation spreads, Round and more round, o'er all the sea of heads.
Fixed like a plant, on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot.
Oared with laboring arms.
The chief his orders gives; the obedient band, With due observance, wait the chief's command.
Pallas to their eyes The mist objected, and condensed the skies.
Declining from the noon of day, The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray.
No pardon vile obscenity should find.
Wandering from clime to clime observant stray'd.
To observations which ourselves we make We grow more partial for the observer's sake.
I have barely quoted . . . without observing upon it.
No ass so meek, no ass so obstinate.
'T is the obstructed paths of sound shall clear.
Apart and easy to be known they lie, Amidst the heap, and obvious to the eye.
When offers are disdained, and love denied.
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
Will Omnipotence neglect to save The suffering virtue of the wise and brave?
Not one looks backward, onward still he goes.
With aspect open, shall erect his head.
To ease the soul of one oppressive weight.
The difference is as great between The optics seeing, as the object seen.
They have something venerable and oracular in that unadorned gravity and shortness in the expression.
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
Prevent the greedy, and outbid the bold.
O deem thy fall not owed to man's decree.
And mighty dukes pack cards for half a crown.
The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!
If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.
Glossy jet is paired with shining white.
Hard task! to hit the palate of such guests.
The blood the virgin's cheek forsook; A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look.
Who pants for glory finds but short repose.
The whispering breeze Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.
Who made the spider parallels design, Sure as De Moivre, without rule or line ?
None but thyself can be thy parallel.
I have translated, or rather parodied, a poem of Horace.
Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
To part his throne, and share his heaven with thee.
The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion conquers reason still.
Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite.
Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws.
Where only merit constant pay receives.
Some hang upon the pendants of her ear.
Born where Heaven's influence scarce can penetrate.
One knighted Blackmore, and one pensioned Quarles.
Anxious cares the pensive nymph oppressed.
And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies.
No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field.
No artful wildness to perplex the scene.
Some positive, persisting fops we know, Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so.
[Doors] . . . pervious to winds, and open every way.
And petrify a genius to a dunce.
The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower.
Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise.
They judge with fury, but they write with phlegm.
Piecemeal they win, this acre first, than that.
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
Swift on his sooty pinions flits the gnome.
Where was the martial brother's pious care?
They advertised they would pirate his edition.
See plastic Nature working to his end.
lf the platform just reflects the order.
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play!
All fame is foreign but of true desert, Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
If the plot or intrigue must be natural, and such as springs from the subject, then the winding up of the plot must be a probable consequence of all that went before.
With speed we plow the watery way.
Commas and points they set exactly right.
Whosoever should be guided through his battles by Minerva, and pointed to every scene of them.
His moral pleases, not his pointed wit.
He marries, bows at court, and grows polite.
And portion to his tribes the wide domain.
Him portioned maids, apprenticed orphans, blest.
Some positive, persisting fops we know, That, if once wrong, will needs be always.
I send you the fair copy of the poem on dullness, which I should not care to hazard by the common post.
Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ?
As this advice ye practice or neglect.
Sick of tops, and poetry, and prate.
Should he return, that troop so blithe and bold, Precipitant in fear would wing their flight.
He spake, and to her hand preferred the bowl.
Painful preëminence! yourself to view Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.
He served a prenticeship who sets up shop.
So ladies in romance assist their knight, Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
Leucothoe shook at these alarms, And pressed Palemon closer in her arms.
Their ready guilt preventing thy commands.
'T is the price of toil, The knave deserves it when he tills the soil.
From the moment he prints, he must except to hear no more truth.
Behold! th' ascending villas on my side Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide.
A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot.
And whispering angles prompt her golden dreams.
Till the bright mountains prop the incumbent sky.
I prop myself upon those few supports that are left me.
The proper study of mankind is man.
Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage, The god propitiate, and the pest assuage.
These swell their prospectsd exalt their pride, When offers are disdain'd, and love deny'd.
No hireling she, no prostitute to praise.
And solid pudding against empty praise.
The pungent grains of titillating dust.
At the pipes of some carved organ move, The gilded puppets dance.
Swift o'er the rolling pebbles, down the hills, Louder and louder purl the falling rills.
So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng By chance go right, they purposely go wrong.
For nine long nights, through all the dusky air, The pyres thick flaming shot a dismal glare.
Each prompt to query, answer, and debate.
And keener lightnings quicken in her eye.
I wield the gauntlet, and I run the race.
And bade the nimblest racer seize the prize.
The racy wine, Late from the mellowing cask restored to light.
Far as creation's ample range extends.
Rapt into future times, the bard begun.
You grow correct that once with rapture writ.
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.
All eyes direct their rays On him, and crowds turn coxcombs as they gaze.
Before this letter reaches your hands.
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know.
A decent boldness ever meets with friends, Succeeds, and e'en a stranger recommends.
Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear, Considered singly, or beheld too near; Which, but proportioned to their light or place, Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
Appius reddens at each word you speak.
And a loud groan reechoes from the main.
He, with heavy fumes oppressed, Reeled from the palace, and retired to rest.
But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! How the style refines!
Calmly he looked on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear.
He who like a father held his reign.
Meet and rejoin me, in the pensive grot.
Rejudge his acts, and dignify disgrace.
His knees relax with toil.
When opening buds salute the welcome day, And earth, relenting, feels the genial ray.
Thy relics, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, And sacred place by Dryden's awful dust.
It preserve some relish of old writing.
Relumed her ancient light, not kindled new.
Old warriors whose adored remains In weeping vaults her hallowed earth contains!
This, ever grateful, in remembrance bear.
The trembling trees, in every plain and wood, Her fate remurmur to the silver flood.
The bard whom pilfered pastorals renown.
So bought an annual rent or two, And liv'd, just as you see I do.
Go, mount the winds, and to the shades repair.
Hippomedon repelled the hostile tide.
What if the head, the eye, or ear repined To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.
Repulsive of his might the weapon stood.
A firm, yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resigned.
Resolve me, Reason, which of these is worse, Want with a full, or with an empty purse?
Albion's cliffs resound the ruray.
The man for wisdom's various arts renowned, Long exercised in woes, O muse, resound.
The vocal lay responsive to the strings.
The huge round stone, resulting with a bound.
The sage, with retrospective eye.
He said, and thus the queen of heaven returned.
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right.
These can divide, and these reverse, the state.
Shall I the long, laborious scene review?
There marched the bard and blockhead, side by side, Who rhymed for hire, and patronized for pride.
Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touched and shamed by ridicule alone.
Till time shall rifle every youthful grace.
“Right,” cries his lordship.
With sweeter notes each rising temple rung.
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day.
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
Honor and shame from no condition rise.
No more shall nation against nation rise.
The sage Chaldeans robed in white appeared.
The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise.
Twice ten tempestuous nights I rolled.
Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot.
Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound.
Morpheus rouses from his bed.
What though my name stood rubric on the walls Or plaistered posts, with claps, in capitals?
I reared this flower; . . . Soft on the paper ruff its leaves I spread.
His stern rule the groaning land obeyed.
She saw with joy the line immortal run, Each sire impressed, and glaring in his son.
Hence to your fields, you rustics! hence, away.
Their rage the hostile bands restrain, All but the ruthless monarch of the main.
Peaceful sleep out the sabbath of the tomb.
Above the reach of sacrilegious hands.
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene.
Sublime she sails The aerial space, and mounts the wingèd gales.
Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it.
Truth guards the poet, sanctifies the line.
Content with science in the vale of peace.
Augustus, born to bring Saturnian times.
Now save a nation, and now save a groat.
Shun their fault, who, scandalously nice, Will needs mistake an author into vice.
Now scantier limits the proud arch confine.
A man of my master's . . . great scholarship.
Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven, And though no science, fairly worth the seven.
Go, if your ancient, but ignoble blood Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood.
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain.
And scream thyself as none e'er screamed before.
If Maevius scribble in Apollo's spite.
Seamed o'er with wounds which his own saber gave.
In human works though labored on with pain, A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain; In God's, one single can its end produce, Yet serves to second too some other use.
Since great Ulysses sought the Phrygian plains.
Hope and deubt alternate seize her seul.
A man's self may be the worst fellow to converse with in the world.
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas.
Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul.
Far as creation's ample range extends, The scale of sensual, mental powers ascends.
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Alike to council or the assembly came, With equal souls and sentiments the same.
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns.
The moon serene in glory mounts the sky.
Now setting Phœbus shone serenely bright.
Even fortune rules no more, O servile land!
Each might his several province well command, Would all but stoop to what they understand.
Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue.
Honor and shame from no condition rise.
The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.
Waste sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn, The spiry fir and shapely box adorn.
Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain.
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid, From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.
Once brightest shined this child of heat and air.
Fair opening to some court's propitious shine.
With showers of stones he drives them far away.
What happier natures shrink at with affright, The hard inhabitant contends is right.
All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink.
Trust not too much your now resistless charms; Those, age or sickness soon or late disarms.
Sets the passions on the side of truth.
All side in parties, and begin the attack.
Of all who blindly creep or sightless soar.
Of talismans and sigils knew the power.
And smiling calmness silvered o'er the deep.
All the enameled race, whose silvery wing Waves to the tepid zephyrs of the spring.
If fate some future bard shall join In sad similitude of griefs to mine.
The conscious simper, and the jealous leer.
In wit a man; simplicity a child.
I grant that poetry's a crying sin.
Who but wishes to invert the laws Of order, sins against the eternal cause.
O'er his head the flying spear Sang innocent, and spent its force in air.
No single man is born with a right of controlling the opinions of all the rest.
At omber singly to decide their doom.
Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it.
Next where the sirens dwell you plow the seas; Their song is death, and makes destruction please.
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Of all mad creatures, if the learned are right, It is the slaver kills, and not the bite.
Mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
Slight is the subject, but not so the praise.
No creature smarts so little as a fool.
She smiled to see the doughty hero slain.
'T was what I said to Craggs and Child, Who praised my modesty, and smiled.
The desert smiled, And paradise was opened in the wild.
The charms that smite the simple heart.
Smit with the love of sister arts we came.
Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught to join The varying verse, the full-resounding line.
Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day.
At last he whispers, “Do, and we go snacks.”
When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.
I could be content to be a little sneared at.
See her sober over a sampler, or gay over a jointed baby.
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.
Soft were my numbers; who could take offense?
Music can soften pain to ease.
All that cheers or softens life.
Great was the cause; our old solemnities From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise, But saved from death, our Argives yearly pay These grateful honors to the god of day.
I view my crime, but kindle at the view, Repent old pleasures, and solicit new.
In these deep solitudes and awful cells Where heavenly pensive contemplation dwells.
The whole world has something to do, something to talk of, something to wish for, and something to be employed about.
What woful stuff this madrigal would be In some starved hackney sonneteer or me!
Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit.
The source of Newton's light, of Bacon's sense.
“Let spades be trumps!” she said.
Yet not to earth's contracted span Thy goodness let me bound.
I, who at some times spend, at others spare, Divided between carelessness and care.
He has there given us an exact geography of Greece, where the countries and the uses of their soils are specified.
A dire dilemma! either way I 'm sped. If foes, they write, if friends, they read, me dead.
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales.
The spiky wheels through heaps of carnage tore.
A perfect judge will read each work of wit With the same spirit that its author writ.
In noble minds some dregs remain, Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain.
Bodies changed to various forms by spleen.
You humor me when I am sick; Why not when I am splenetic?
Each had a gravity would make you split.
My sons their old, unhappy sire despise, Spoiled of his kingdom, and deprived of eyes.
Yet Chloe, sure, was formed without a spot.
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide.
The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green.
O, spring to light; auspicious Babe, be born.
Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move The hero's glory, or the virgin's love.
Thus the small jet, which hasty hands unlock, Spurts in the gardener's eyes who turns the cock.
On her large squab you find her spread.
There oft are heard the notes of infant woe, -- The short, thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall.
Zoilus calls the companions of Ulysses the “squeaking pigs” of Homer.
Knights, squires, and steeds, must enter on the stage.
Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains.
I'll stake yon lamb, that near the fountain plays.
He stood the furious foe.
Sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed.
Can this imperious lord forget to reign, Quit all his state, descend, and serve again?
Who calls the council, states the certain day.
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
Stemmed the wild torrent of a barbarous age.
They are stepping almost three thousand years back into the remotest antiquity.
The reputation of a man depends on the first steps he makes in the world.
Should some relenting eye Glance on the where our cold relics lie.
I have not yet forgot myself to stone.
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife, The trophied arches, storied halls, invade.
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate.
Storms beat, and rolls the main; O! beat those storms, and roll the seas, in vain.
They straiten at each end the cord.
Those oft are stratagems which error seem, Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
His nodding helm emits a streamy ray.
And praise the easy vigor of a life Where Denham's strength and Waller's sweetness join.
The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain?
And rules as strict his labored work confine, As if the Stagirite o'erlooked each line.
They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
He twangs the grieving string.
O, lasting as those colors may they shine, Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line.
There stands a structure of majestic frame.
The proper study of mankind is man.
And stunned him with the music of the spheres.
All are but parts of one stupendous whole.
In one short view subjected to our eye, Gods, emperors, heroes, sages, beauties, lie.
The sun . . . Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, But ripens spirits in cold, northern climes.
And makes what happiness we justly call, Subsist not in the good of one, but all.
In the nice bee what sense so subtly true.
Successless all her soft caresses prove.
By adverse destiny constrained to sue For counsel and redress, he sues to you.
When purple light shall next suffuse the skies.
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
Rebate your loves, each rival suit suspend, Till this funereal web my labors end.
No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows; The dreaded east is all the wind that blows.
Her snakes united, sulphureous waters drink.
The head that turns at superlunar things.
A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain.
Many mischievous insects are daily at work to make men of merit suspicious of each other.
Blest swains! whose nymphs in every grace excel.
Homer excels . . . in this, that he swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.
Wake into voice each silent string, And sweep the sounding lyre.
Ye sylphs and sylphids, to your chief give ear, Fays, fairies, genii, elves, and demons, hear.
Her private orchards, walled on every side, To lawless sylvans all access denied.
The nymph the table spread.
Men in their loose, unguarded hours they take; Not that themselves are wise, but others weak.
In various talk the instructive hours they passed.
They are not so well tallied to the present juncture.
Where waved the tattered ensigns of Ragfair.
And not a man appears to tell their fate.
To fall with dignity, with temper rise.
The temperate sleeps, and spirits light as air.
Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's avenging Sire.
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of art.
Two principles in human nature reign; Self-love, to urge, and Reason, to restrain; Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call.
With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
This way and that wavering sails they bend.
Thus Bethel spoke, who always speaks his thought.
War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades.
Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair.
O'er his fair limbs a flowery vest he threw.
That dreadful oath which binds the Thunderer.
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.
The fleet, swift tilting, o'er the urges flew.
Nor fits it to prolong the heavenly feast Timeless, indecent.
All manners take a tincture from our own.
The pale boy senator yet tingling stands.
She, tinseled o'er in robes of varying hues.
Or blend in beauteous tints the colored mass.
The pungent grains of titillating dust.
Now sink in sorrows with a tolling bell.
An honest courtier, yet a patriot too.
Let those eyes that view The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.
The top of my ambition is to contribute to that work.
At length, Erasmus, that great injured name, . . . Stemmed the wild torrent of a barbarous age.
The god, vindictive, doomed them never more- Ah, men unblessed! -- to touch their natal shore.
The lines, though touched but faintly, are drawn right.
The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine.
Stunned with his giddy larum half the town.
The shady empire shall retain no trace Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase.
Long behind he trails his pompous robe.
What is loose love? A transient gust.
Replenished from the cool, translucent springs.
With transport views the airy rule his own, And swells on an imaginary throne.
What seas you traversed, and what fields you fought.
Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Accept such treatment as a swain affords.
Fair tresses man's imperial race insnare.
On one nice trick depends the general fate.
I took a trip to London on the death of the queen.
Athena, war's triumphant maid.
The trophied arches, storied halls, invade.
My mother will never be troublesome to me.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance.
Tufted trees and springing corn.
Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose.
The monarch turns him to his royal guest.
His limbs how turned, how broad his shoulders spread !
Who turns a Persian tale for half a crown.
Too well the turns of mortal chance I know.
Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering string.
O'er the twilight groves and dusky caves.
Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine.
Twist it into a serpentine form.
Thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear.
The oppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst.
The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye.
Yon Juno of majestic size, With cowlike udders, and with oxlike eyes.
Let Earth unbalanced from her orbit fly.
Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn.
The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
My feet, through wine, unfaithful to their weight.
The universal cause Acts not by partial, but by general laws.
Unlock your springs, and open all your shades.
She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all.
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, He first the snuffbox opened, then the case.
Her snakes untied, sulphurous waters drink.
And drop at last, but in unwilling ears, This saving counsel, “Keep your piece nine years.”
A monstrous wave upbore The chief, and dashed him on the craggy shore.
Upon the whole, it will be necessary to avoid that perpetual repetition of the same epithets which we find in Homer.
Uprose the virgin with the morning light.
Through the thick deserts headlong urged his flight.
Heir urges heir, like wave impelling wave.
'T is use alone that sanctifies expense.
Load some vain church with old theatric state.
Swift through the valves the visionary fair Repassed.
Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled, That all her vanities at once are dead; Succeeding vanities she still regards.
Pallas grew vap'rish once and odd.
Ladies like variegated tulips show.
That each from other differs, first confess; Next, that he varies from himself no less.
No chargers then were wrought in burnished gold, Nor silver vases took the forming mold.
See dying vegetables life sustain, See life dissolving vegetate again.
This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This, from no venal or ungrateful muse.
Long 't was doubtful, both so closely pent, Which first should issue from the narrow vent.
Which in our vernacular idiom may be thus interpreted.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
There polished chests embroidered vestures graced.
White curl the waves, and the vexed ocean roars.
Viands of various kinds allure the taste.
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends.
Swift through the valves the visionary fair Repassed, and viewless mixed with common air.
Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix.
Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain.
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, But vindicate the ways of God to man.
To arms! to arms! the fierce virago cries.
Virtue only makes our bliss below.
Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
The dart flew on, and pierced a vital part.
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defense, And fills up all the mighty void of sense.
Rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks.
She fell to lust a voluntary prey.
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.
He opened a boundless walk for his imagination.
For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find What wants in blood and spirits, swelled with wind.
Each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
I formerly warmed my head with reading controversial writings.
Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace This jealous, waspish, wrong-head, rhyming race.
The wave behind impels the wave before.
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
Let walth, let honor, wait the wedded dame.
We wandering go Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe.
In nice balance, truth with gold she weighs.
All the world speaks well of you.
What time the morn mysterious visions brings.
Then wheeling down the steep of heaven he flies.
Hoary whiskers and a forky beard.
The wild winds whistle, and the billows roar.
The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew.
No whiter page than Addison's remains.
Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
Never, never, wicked man was wise.
Arches widen, and long aisles extend.
Search then the ruling passion, there, alone The wild are constant, and the cunning known.
Long lost and wildered in the maze of fate.
Ye vigorous swains, while youth ferments your blood, . . . Wind the shrill horn.
Who heaves old ocean, and whowings the storms.
See where on earth the flowery glories lie; With her they flourished, and with her they die.
With her they flourished, and with her they die.
A beau and witing perished in the forming.
[They] weep each other's woe.
What woeful stuff this madrigal would be!
For sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race, Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, Here earth and water seem to strive again.
Her wrinkled form in black and white arrayed.
Ten censure wrong for one that writes amiss.
Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields The thistle springs, to which the lily yields?
A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke, Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke.
Preacher at once, and zany of thy age.