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Two Lectures on the Poetry of Pope, and on His Own Travels in America ...
Previsualització no disponible - 2020
Two Lectures, on the Poetry of Pope, and on His Own Travels in America ...
George William Frederick Howar Carlisle
Previsualització no disponible - 2017
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Pàgina 9 - For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right...
Pàgina 9 - 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.
Pàgina 9 - 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.
Pàgina 19 - What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam; Of smell, the headlong lioness between, And hound sagacious on the tainted green; Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, To that which warbles through the vernal wood! The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine ! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line...
Pàgina 17 - Conspicuous scene ! another yet is nigh, (More silent far) where kings and poets lie ; Where MURRAY (long enough his country's pride) Shall be no more than TULLY, or than HYDE ! Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the stone, Will any mortal let himself alone?
Pàgina 19 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent ; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect in a hair as heart ; As full, as perfect in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns. To Him no high, no low, no great, no small ; He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all.
Pàgina 15 - Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause ; While wits and templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 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...
Pàgina 9 - True wit is nature to advantage dressed, — What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed; Something whose truth convinced at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind.