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ancient Balaam Bavius Behold better blessing blest bliss Boileau breast charms Cibber Codrus court cried critics crown death divine dulness Dunciad e'er EPISTLE Essay on Criticism eternal eyes fair fame fate folly fool give glory goddess grace happiness head heart heaven hero honour Iliad king knave laws learned live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord Hervey mankind mind moral muse nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once parterre passion persons Pindar plain pleased pleasure poem poet Pope praise pride proud Queen Queen Caroline rage reason reign rich rise round Sappho satire sense shade shine sigh sing skies soft soul sylphs taste Thalestris thee things thou thought thousand trembling truth Twas verse vice Virg Virgil virtue Warburton Whig whole wife wings wise wretched write
Page 76 - 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,
Page 69 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Page 18 - But most by numbers judge a poet's song, And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong: In the bright muse, though thousand charms conspire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire...
Page 15 - Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all.
Page 165 - tis past a doubt, All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out : Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land. What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide? They pierce my thickets, thro...
Page 111 - Let not this weak, unknowing hand Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land On each I judge thy foe.
Page 83 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen ; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Page 176 - Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys; So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.