Alexander Pope Poems on Name (26 Poems)

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 state,A being darkly wise, and rudely great:With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,With too much weakness for the stoic’s … Continue reading →

The Temple of Fame (Alexander Pope Poems)

In that soft season, when descending show’rsCall forth the greens, and wake the rising flow’rs;When op’ning buds salute the welcome day,And earth relenting feels the genial day,As balmy sleep had charm’d my cares to rest,And love itself was banish’d from … Continue reading →

The Dunciad: Book II. (Alexander Pope Poems)

High on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shoneHenley’s gilt tub, or Flecknoe’s Irish throne,Or that where on her Curlls the public pours,All-bounteous, fragrant grains and golden showers,Great Cibber sate: the proud Parnassian sneer,The conscious simper, and the jealous leer,Mix on … Continue reading →

Windsor Forest (Alexander Pope Poems)

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 your springs, and open all your shades.Granville commands; your aid O Muses bring!What Muse for Granville can refuse to sing? … Continue reading →

An Essay on Man: Epistle 1 (Alexander Pope Poems)

To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us and … Continue reading →

The Dunciad: Book III. (Alexander Pope Poems)

But in her Temple’s last recess inclos’d, On Dulness’ lap th’ Anointed head repos’d. Him close she curtains round with Vapours blue, And soft besprinkles with Cimmerian dew.Then raptures high the seat of Sense o’erflow, Which only heads refin’d from … Continue reading →

The Dunciad: Book I. (Alexander Pope Poems)

The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings, I sing. Say you, her instruments the great! Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and Fate; You by whose care, in vain decried … Continue reading →

The Fable of Dryope – Ovid’s Metamorphose (Alexander Pope Poems)

She said, and for her lost Calanthis sighs,When the fair Consort of her son replies.“Since you a servant’s ravish’d form bemoan,And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own;Let me (if tears and grief permit) relateA nearer woe, a sister’s stranger … Continue reading →

Summer – The Second Pastoral; or Alexis (Alexander Pope Poems)

A Shepherd’s Boy (he seeks no better name)Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,Where dancing sun-beams n the waters play’d,And verdant alders form’d a quiv’ring shade.Soft as he mourn’d, the streams forgot to flow,The flocks around a dumb compassion … Continue reading →

Winter – The Fourth Pastoral, or Daphne (Alexander Pope Poems)

Lycidas. Thyrsis, the music of that murm’ring spring,Is not so mournful as the strains you sing.Nor rivers winding thro’ the vales below,So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,The moon, serene in glory, mounts … Continue reading →