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ancient appear arms bear better blessing cause character charms court critics crown death EPISTLE equal eyes fair fall fame fate fire follow fool fortune gave give grace half hand happiness head hear heart heaven honour hope kind king laws learned less light live look Lord mankind manner mean mind moral muse nature never night o'er once passion persons plain play pleased pleasure poem poet poor Pope praise pride printed proud published queen rage reason rest rich rise round rules satire sense shade shine soul spread sure taste thee things thou thought thousand true truth turns verse vice virtue whole wife wings wise 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.