From the “Essay on Man,” Epistles I. and IV.
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:
Yet simple Nature to his hope has given...
Alexander Pope
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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... -
From “The Rape of the Lock,” Canto II. ll. 7–18.
ON her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore,
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfixed as those:
Favors to none, to all she... -
From “The Rape of the Lock,” Canto I.
AND now, unveiled, the toilet stands displayed,
Each silver vase in mystic order laid.
First, robed in white, the nymph intent adores,
With head uncovered, the cosmetic powers.
A heavenly image in the glass appears,... -
[Lord Bolingbroke]
From “An Essay on Man,” Epistle IV.
COME then, my friend! my genius! come along;
O master of the poet, and the song!
And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends,
To man’s low passions, or their glorious ends,
Teach me, like... -
From “Moral Essays,” Epistle I.
SEARCH thou the ruling passion; there, alone,
The wild are constant, and the cunning known;
The fool consistent and the false sincere;
Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.* * * * *
In... -
From “An Essay on Man,” Epistle IV.
HONOR and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
Fortune in men has some small difference made,
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;
The cobbler aproned, and the parson... -
From “An Essay on Man,” Epistle IV.
WHAT ’s fame?—a fancied life in others’ breath,
A thing beyond us, e’en before our death.
Just what you hear, you have; and what ’s unknown
The same (my lord) if Tully’s, or your own.
All that we feel of it begins and... -
Vital spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
O, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!Hark! they whisper; angels say,
... -
A Sacred Eclogue, in Imitation of Virgil’s Pollio
YE nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.
The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades,
The dreams of Pindus and th’ Aonian maids,
Delight no more—O thou my voice inspire...