The Pope Anthology: 1701-1744, Volumul 8Edward Arber H. Frowde, 1901 - 312 pagini |
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Rezultatele 1 - 5 din 46
Pagina 31
... Dear ! Good Humour can prevail , When Airs , and flights , and screams , and scolding fail ! Beauties , in vain , their pretty eyes may roll ; Charms strike the sight , but merit wins the soul ! ' So spake the Dame ; but no applause ...
... Dear ! Good Humour can prevail , When Airs , and flights , and screams , and scolding fail ! Beauties , in vain , their pretty eyes may roll ; Charms strike the sight , but merit wins the soul ! ' So spake the Dame ; but no applause ...
Pagina 58
... I swore to myself , and resolved I would try Some way , my poor heart to recover ; But that was all vain ! for I sooner could die , Than live with forbearing to love her ! Dear CŒLIA ! be kind then ! and since your 58 William Congreve .
... I swore to myself , and resolved I would try Some way , my poor heart to recover ; But that was all vain ! for I sooner could die , Than live with forbearing to love her ! Dear CŒLIA ! be kind then ! and since your 58 William Congreve .
Pagina 59
... dear blessing ere I die ! Long I've borne excess of pain ; Let me now some bliss obtain ! ' Thus to almighty Love I cried ; When , angry , thus the God replied . ' Blessings greater none can have ! Art thou not AMYNTA's slave ? Cease ...
... dear blessing ere I die ! Long I've borne excess of pain ; Let me now some bliss obtain ! ' Thus to almighty Love I cried ; When , angry , thus the God replied . ' Blessings greater none can have ! Art thou not AMYNTA's slave ? Cease ...
Pagina 76
... Dear Five Years Old befriends my Passion ! And I may write till she can spell ! For , while she makes her silk - worms beds With all the tender things I swear ; Whilst all the house , my Passion reads , In papers round her baby's hair ...
... Dear Five Years Old befriends my Passion ! And I may write till she can spell ! For , while she makes her silk - worms beds With all the tender things I swear ; Whilst all the house , my Passion reads , In papers round her baby's hair ...
Pagina 83
... dear foolish bosom tear ; When the big lip , and wat'ry eye , Tell me , the rising storm is nigh : ' Tis then , thou art yon angry Main , Deformed by winds , and dashed by rain ! And the poor sailor that must try Its fury , labours less ...
... dear foolish bosom tear ; When the big lip , and wat'ry eye , Tell me , the rising storm is nigh : ' Tis then , thou art yon angry Main , Deformed by winds , and dashed by rain ! And the poor sailor that must try Its fury , labours less ...
Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
Termeni și expresii frecvente
ALEXANDER POPE ANTHOLOGY APOLLO arms Beau beauteous Beauty Beggar's Opera BELINDA bless bonny bonny broom bosom breast bright BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS charms CHLOE CLOE COLIN Countess of WINCHILSEA cried Crown 8vo CUPID DAMON dart dear DELIA delight Derry despair disdain e'er Edited ev'ry Extra fcap eyes fair fame fate fear flame flowers fond frae GANYMEDE gentle give grace happy hear heart Heaven India Paper King kiss Lady live look Lord Lord LANSDOWNE Lover Maid mind Miscellany Muse ne'er never night Numbers Nymph o'er Oxford India Paper pain play pleasure Poems POPE prove real Passion SAPPHO Shepherd shine sighs sing smile soft Song soul STREPHON Swain sweet MOLLY Sylphs tears tell tender THALESTRIS thee thou thought thrice trembling trifle Twas VENUS Verse VICAR OF BRAY vows W. W. SKEAT wind wish Youth
Pasaje populare
Pagina 17 - One speaks the glory of the British queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen ; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; At every word a reputation dies.
Pagina 11 - Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
Pagina 35 - And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. Then cease, bright nymph ! to mourn thy ravished hair, Which adds new glory to the shining sphere! Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost. For after all the murders of your eye, When, after millions slain, yourself shall die; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, This lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame,...
Pagina 3 - Though oft the ear the open vowels tire; While expletives their feeble aid do join; And ten low words oft creep in one dull line: While they ring round the same unvaried chimes, With sure returns of still expected rhymes; Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze...
Pagina 49 - Here will I hold. If there's a power above us (And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ; And that which he delights in must be happy.
Pagina 32 - Heroes' and heroines' shouts confusedly rise, And bass and treble voices strike the skies. No common weapons in their hands are found, Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound. So when bold Homer makes the gods engage, And...
Pagina 13 - Or roll the planets through the boundless sky : Some, less refined, beneath the moon's pale light Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night, Or suck the mists in grosser air below, Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main, Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain.
Pagina 47 - A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little senate laws, What bosom beats not in his country's cause ? Who sees him act, but envies every deed ? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Pagina 274 - King! Long live our noble King! God save the King! Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us! God save the King!
Pagina 162 - Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring All on a rock reclined. Wide o'er the foaming billows She cast a wistful look; Her head was crown'd with willows That trembled o'er the brook. " ' Twelve months are gone and over, And nine long tedious days; Why didst thou, venturous lover — Why didst thou trust the seas ? Cease, cease, thou cruel Ocean, And let my lover rest; Ah!