The works of Alexander Pope. Containing the principal notes of drs. Warburton and Warton [&c.]. To which are added, some original letters, with additional observations, and memoirs, by W.L. Bowles, Հատոր 2

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Էջ 417 - A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life ; and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, Thank'd Heaven that he had liv'd, and that he died.
Էջ 53 - And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the Cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Էջ 418 - 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 once and lash the age ; Above temptation, in a low estate ; And uncorrupted...
Էջ 44 - Sad proof how well a lover can obey ! Death, only death, can break the lasting chain ; And here ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain, Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, And wait, till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.
Էջ 52 - Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments mayst thou stand...
Էջ 100 - world, nor in broad rumour lies, ^But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, And perfect...
Էջ 39 - em all: Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; No, make me mistress to the man I love; If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
Էջ 333 - ... twixt reading and Bohea, To muse, and spill her solitary Tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire; Up to her godly garret after sev'n, There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
Էջ 427 - Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame, Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham : In whom a race, for courage fam'd and art, Ends in the milder merit of the heart : And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given, Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven.
Էջ 33 - Contemplation dwells, And ever-musing Melancholy reigns, What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat ? Yet, yet I love ! — From Abelard it came, And Eloi'sa yet must kiss the name.

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