An Essay on Man: Epistle II (Alexander Pope Poems)
I.Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;The proper study of mankind is man.Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle ...
I.Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;The proper study of mankind is man.Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle ...
In that soft season, when descending show'rsCall forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;When op'ning buds salute the welcome ...
High on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shoneHenley's gilt tub, or Flecknoe's Irish throne,Or that where on her Curlls the ...
Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids!Unlock ...
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition, and ...
But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd, On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd. Him close she curtains round with ...
Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the song,To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades,The dreams of ...
I. Descend ye Nine! descend and sing; The breathing instruments inspire, Wake into voice each silent string, And sweep the ...
Parson, these things in thy possessingAre better than the Bishop's blessing.A Wife that makes conserves; a SteedThat carries double when ...
Oh be thou blest with all that Heav'n can send,Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a Friend:Not with those ...
With scornful mien, and various toss of air,Fantastic vain, and insolently fair,Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain,She looks ambition, and she ...
Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild;In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child:With native Humour temp'ring virtuous Rage,Form'd to delight at ...
With no poetic ardour fir'dI press the bed where Wilmot lay;That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,Begets no numbers grave ...
In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in ...
Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, O the pain, the bliss ...
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill Appear in Writing or in Judging ill, But, of the two, ...
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride ...
What beck'ning ghost, along the moon-light shade Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade? 'Tis she!--but why that bleeding ...
NOTHING so true as what you once let fall, "Most Women have no Characters at all." Matter too soft a ...
Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said, Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The dog-star ...
The First Epistle Awake, my ST. JOHN!(1) leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of Kings. Let ...
Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate, All but the page prescrib'd, their present state: From brutes what ...
Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere (Horace, Epistles II.i.267) While you, great patron of mankind, sustain The balanc'd world, and open ...
He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part; At home he ...
Part 1 WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing -- This ...
She said: the pitying audience melt in tears, But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears. In vain Thalestris ...
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