The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1903 - Всего страниц: 672

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Стр. 141 - All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee; All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see; All Discord, Harmony not understood; All partial Evil, universal Good: And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite, One truth is clear, WHATEVER is, is RIGHT.
Стр. 90 - 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. The busy sylphs surround their darling care, These set the head, and those divide the hair, Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown ; And Betty's prais'd for labours not her own. CANTO II. NOT with more glories, in th...
Стр. 139 - The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy Reason would he skip and play ? Pleas'd to the last he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
Стр. 98 - Cares produce, Or who would learn one earthly Thing of Use ? To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint, Nor could it sure be such a Sin to paint. But since, alas ! frail Beauty must decay...
Стр. 72 - 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.
Стр. 94 - The little engine on his fingers' ends; This just behind Belinda's neck he spread, As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head. Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair...
Стр. 93 - Falls undistinguish'd by the victor spade! Thus far both armies to Belinda yield; Now to the baron fate inclines the field. His warlike Amazon her host invades, Th' imperial consort of the crown of spades.
Стр. 168 - But clear and artless pouring through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise ? " The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread ! The Man of Ross...
Стр. 138 - Say first, of God above, or man below What can we reason, but from what we know? Of man, what see we but his station here, From which to reason, or to which refer?
Стр. 91 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends ; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.

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