The poetical works of Alexander Pope, with a life, by A. Dyce, Volume 2

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Alexander Dyce
1863
 

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Page 152 - The world recedes ; it disappears ! Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears With sounds seraphic ring ! Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! O grave, where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy sting...
Page 17 - Tis not enough no harshness gives offence ; 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.
Page 82 - The only point where human bliss stands still, And tastes the good without the fall to ill ; Where only merit constant pay receives, Is...
Page 12 - A little learning is a dangerous thing ; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring : There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.
Page 59 - Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole; One all-extending, all-preserving soul Connects each being, greatest with the least; Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; All served, all serving: nothing stands alone: The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown.
Page 48 - Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all ; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd; The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Page 135 - You show us Rome was glorious, not profuse, And pompous buildings once were things of use; Yet shall, my lord, your just, your noble rules, Fill half the land with imitating fools ; Who random drawings from your sheets shall take; And of one beauty many blunders make...
Page 150 - 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. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind. Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease. Together mixt: sweet recreation, And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Page 46 - Cease then, nor order imperfection name : Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. Know thy own point : This kind, this due degree Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.
Page 48 - Go, wondrous creature! mount where Science guides; Go measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides; Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, Correct old Time, and regulate the Sun; Go, soar with Plato to th...

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