The Rape of the Lock: And Other Poems

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Ginn, 1906 - 157 sider

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Side 38 - And value books, as women men, for dress: Their praise is still, — The style is excellent; The sense, they humbly take upon content. Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
Side 57 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that Hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be blest; The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Side 146 - 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 'em all.
Side 17 - Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn'd his captive queen : He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, And falls like thunder on the prostrate ace. The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky ; The walls, the woods, and long canals reply.
Side 57 - Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutored mind Sees GOD in clouds, or hears Him in the wind ; His soul proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way...
Side 70 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease : Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Side 71 - Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? Who would not weep if Atticus were he? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers...
Side 35 - Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is Pride, the never-failing vice of. fools.
Side 29 - Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill; But, of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. Some few in that, but numbers err in this, Ten censure wrong, for one who writes amiss; A fool might once himself alone expose, Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
Side 25 - Who would not scorn what Housewife's Cares produce, Or who would learn one earthly Thing of Use ? To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint, Nor could it sure be such a Sin to paint. But since, alas ! frail Beauty must decay...

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