The poetical works of Alexander Pope, ed. with notes and intr. memoir by A.W. Ward1869 |
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Стр. 17
... thou canst not cure . Ye shady beeches , and ye cooling streams , Defence from Phoebus ' , not from Cupid's beams , To you I mourn , nor to the deaf I sing , The woods shall answer , and their echo ring . The hills and rocks attend my ...
... thou canst not cure . Ye shady beeches , and ye cooling streams , Defence from Phoebus ' , not from Cupid's beams , To you I mourn , nor to the deaf I sing , The woods shall answer , and their echo ring . The hills and rocks attend my ...
Стр. 20
... Thou , whom the Nine1 with Plautus ' wit inspire , The art of Terence , and Menander's fire2 ; Whose sense instructs us , and whose humour charms , Whose judgment sways us , and whose spirit warms ! Oh , skill'd in Nature ! see the ...
... Thou , whom the Nine1 with Plautus ' wit inspire , The art of Terence , and Menander's fire2 ; Whose sense instructs us , and whose humour charms , Whose judgment sways us , and whose spirit warms ! Oh , skill'd in Nature ! see the ...
Стр. 22
... Thou wert from Etna's burning entrails torn , Got by fierce whirlwinds , and in thunder born ! Resound , ye hills , resound my mournful lay ! Farewell , ye woods ! adieu the light of day ! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains ...
... Thou wert from Etna's burning entrails torn , Got by fierce whirlwinds , and in thunder born ! Resound , ye hills , resound my mournful lay ! Farewell , ye woods ! adieu the light of day ! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains ...
Стр. 35
... Thou , too , great father of the British floods ! With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ; Where tow'ring oaks their growing honours rear , And future navies on thy shores appear . 220 Not Neptune's self from all her streams ...
... Thou , too , great father of the British floods ! With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ; Where tow'ring oaks their growing honours rear , And future navies on thy shores appear . 220 Not Neptune's self from all her streams ...
Стр. 43
... thou now the fatal sisters move ? No crime was thine , if ' tis no crime to love . Now under hanging mountains , Beside the fall of fountains , Or where Hebrus wanders , Rolling in Mæanders , All alone , Unheard , unknown , He makes his ...
... thou now the fatal sisters move ? No crime was thine , if ' tis no crime to love . Now under hanging mountains , Beside the fall of fountains , Or where Hebrus wanders , Rolling in Mæanders , All alone , Unheard , unknown , He makes his ...
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The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Ed. with Notes and Intr. Memoir by A.W ... Alexander Pope Недоступно для просмотра - 2017 |
The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Ed. With Notes and Intr. Memoir by A.W ... Alexander Pope Недоступно для просмотра - 2018 |
The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope, Ed. with Notes and Intr. Memoir by A.W ... Alexander Pope Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
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ancient appears bear Book born cause character charms Court Critics death died Dunciad edition English Epistle equal Essay ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fall fame fate father fire fool give grace hand happy head heart heav'n honour imitation Italy kind King Lady laws learned less letters light lines literary live Lord lost means mind Moral Muse Nature never o'er once original Passion person play poem poet poetry political poor Pope Pope's pow'r praise pride published Queen reason rest rise round rules Satire sense shade soul spirit Swift taste thee things thou thought thousand thro translation true turns verse Virtue Warburton Warton whole wife write written youth
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Стр. 45 - 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.
Стр. 92 - 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.
Стр. 77 - Form a strong line about the silver bound, And guard the wide circumference around. 'Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins, Be...
Стр. 195 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that Hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be blest; The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Стр. 235 - twould a Saint provoke, (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke) No, let a charming Chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — «<• And— Betty— give this Cheek a little Red.
Стр. 200 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent Spreads undivided, operates unspent, Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart, As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns; To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Стр. 283 - Be no unpleasing melancholy mine : Me, let the tender office long engage, To rock the cradle of reposing age, With lenient arts extend a mother's breath. Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death, Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, And keep awhile one parent from the sky ! On cares like these if length of days attend.
Стр. 57 - Some to Conceit alone their taste confine, And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line; Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit; One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit. Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, And hide with ornaments their want of art.
Стр. 277 - 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 ? What tho' my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaister'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers...
Стр. 58 - In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are try'd, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.