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Ambrose Philips Balaam beauty behold bless'd blessing bliss breast breath Brobdingnag Catiline charms Countess of Suffolk cried critics crown'd dame dear death e'en e'er ease envy EPIGRAM EPISTLE ESSAY ON CRITICISM Eurydice eyes fair fame fate fire fix'd flame fool gentle gold grace happiness hear heart Heaven honour Houyhnhnm join'd king knave knight lady learn'd learning LEMUEL GULLIVER live lord lov'd lyre man's mankind mind mortal Muse nature nature's ne'er never numbers nymph o'er once Orpheus Ovid pain parterre passion Phryne plain pleas'd pleasure poet Pope praise pride proud rage rais'd reason rise rules sage Sappho seem'd self-love SEMICHORUS sense shade shine sigh skies Smil soft soul spouse squire taste thee things thou thought true Twas tyrant virtue whate'er whole wife wise youth
47. oldal - 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 pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest, In doubt to deem himself a God, or Beast; In doubt his Mind or Body to prefer...
82. oldal - The only point where human bliss stands still, And tastes the good without the fall to ill ; Where only merit constant pay receives, Is...
48. oldal - 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...
17. oldal - 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.
135. oldal - 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...
46. oldal - 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.
102. oldal - twould a saint provoke" (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke), " No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.
17. oldal - whispers through the trees :" If crystal streams " with pleasing murmurs creep," The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with
85. oldal - FATHER of all ! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! Thou great First Cause, least understood, Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind...