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CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
 
Pope
 
        A generous friendship no cold medium knows,
Burns with one love, with one resentment glows;
One should our interests and our passions be,
My friend must hate the man that injures me.
  1
        A little learning is a dangerous thing!
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fired at first sight with what the muse imparts,
In fearless youth we tempt the height of arts,
While from the bounded level of our mind
Short views we take, nor mind the lengths behind;
But more advanced, behold with strange surprise,
New distant scenes of endless science rise.
  2
        A long, exact, and serious comedy;
In every scene some moral let it teach,
And, if it can, at once both please and preach.
  3
        A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
At every word a reputation dies.
  4
        A wise physician, skill’d our wounds to heal,
Is more than armies to the public weal.
  5
        About this spring of ancient fame say true,
The dapper elves their moonlight sports renew;
Their pigmy king and little fairy queen
In circling dances gamboll’d on the green,
With tuneful sprites a merry concert made,
And airy music warbled through the shade.
  6
        Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe and a suspicious friend.
  7
        All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
That chang’d thro’ all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the earth as in, th’ ethereal frame;
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
Lives thro’ all life, extends thro’ all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart.
  8
        All Nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good;
And spite of pride, in erring reason’s spite,
One truth is clear, Whatever is is right.
  9
        And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.
  10
        And soften’d sounds along the waters die:
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.
  11
        And yet believe me, good as well as ill,
Woman’s at best a contradiction still.
Heaven, when it strives to polish all it can
Its last best work, but forms a softer man.
  12
        And you, brave Cobham! to the latest breath
Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death.
  13
        As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death;
The young disease, that must subdue at length,
Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
  14
        As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;
The centre mov’d, a circle straight succeeds,
Another still, and still another spreads.
  15
        Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine,
Earth for whose use? Pride answers, ’Tis for mine
For me kind nature wakes her genial power,
Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower.
  16
        At every trifle scorn to take offence;
That always shows great pride or little sense.
  17
        At length corruption, like a general flood,
(So long by watchful ministers withstood,)
Shall deluge all; and avarice creeping on,
Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the sun.
  18
        Authors are partial to their wit, ’tis true,
But are not critics to their judgment, too?
  19
        Avoid Extremes; and shun the fault of such
Who still are pleas’d too little or too much.
  20
 
 
        Be niggards of advice on no pretense;
For the worst avarice is that of sense.
  21
        Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
  22
        Be silent always, when you doubt your sense,
And speak, tho’ sure, with seeming diffidence.
  23
        Be thou the first true merit to befriend,
His praise is lost who waits till all commend.
  24
        Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
Some livelier plaything gives his Youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite;
Scarfs, Garters, Gold amuse his riper stage;
And beads and pray’r-books are the toys of age;
Pleas’d with this Bauble still, as that before;
Till tir’d he sleeps, and Life’s poor play is o’er.
  25
        Blest paper-credit! last and best supply!
That lends corruption lighter wings to fly.
  26
        Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
  27
        But blind to former as to future fate,
What mortal knows his pre-existent state?
  28
        But honest instinct comes a volunteer;
Sure never to o’er-shoot, but just to hit,
While still too wide or short in human wit.
  29
        But Satan now is wiser than of yore,
And tempts by making rich, not making poor.
  30
        But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
  31
        But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
  32
        But to the world no bugbear is so great,
As want of figure and a small estate.
  33
        But touch me, and no minister so sore.
Whoe’er offends, at some unlucky time
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
And the sad burthen of some merry song.
  34
        But true expression, like th’ unchanging sun,
Clears and improves whate’er it shines upon;
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
  35
        But would you sing, and rival Orpheus’ strain,
The wond’ring forests soon should dance again;
The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!
  36
        But you with pleasure own your errors past,
And make each day a critic on the last.
  37
        By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,
By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorned,
By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned.
  38
        By music, minds an equal temper know,
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low:
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;
Or, when the soul is press’d with cares,
Exalts her in enliv’ning airs.
  39
        Cease to consult, the time for action calls,
War, horrid war, approaches to your walls!
  40
        Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused and disabused;
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 hurled;
The glory, jest and riddle of the world!
  41
        Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.
  42
        Condemned whole years in absence to deplore,
And image charms he must behold no more.
  43
        Condition, circumstance, is not the thing;
Bliss is the same in subject or in king.
  44
        Count all th’ advantage prosperous Vice attains,
’Tis but what Virtue flies from and disdains:
And grant the bad what happiness they would,
One they must want—which is, to pass for good.
  45
        Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate,
Born where Heav’n’s influence scarce can penetrate.
In life’s low vale, the soil the virtues like,
They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
  46
        Cursed be the verse, how well soe’er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe.
  47
        Curst be the verse, how well soe’er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe,
Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear,
Or from the soft-ey’d virgin steal a tear.
  48
        Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserv’d to blame, or to commend,
A tim’rous foe, and a suspicious friend.
  49
          Destroy his fib, or sophistry—in vain!
The creature’s at his dirty work again.
  50
        Devotion’s self shall steal a thought from heaven,
One human tear shall drop, and be forgiven.
  51
        Envy will merit as its shade pursue,
But like a shadow proves the substance true.
  52
        Envy, to which th’ ignoble mind’s a slave,
Is emulation in the learn’d or brave.
  53
        Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
  54
        Expression is the dress of thought, and still
Appears more decent as more suitable;
A vile conceit in pompous words express’d,
Is like a clown in regal purple dress’d.
  55
        Extremes in nature equal good produce,
Extremes in man concur to general use.
  56
        Eye nature’s walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners, living as they rise;
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can;
But vindicate the ways of God to man.
  57
        Faints into airs and languishes with pride;
On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe,
Wrapt in a gown for sickness and for show.
  58
        Father of All! in every age,
  In every clime ador’d.
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
  Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
  59
        For forms of government let fools contest;
Whate’er is best administer’d is best.
  60
        For I, who holds sage Homer’s rule the best,
Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
  61
        For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can’t be wrong whose life is in the right.
  62
        For not the anger of the wise to raise;
Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.
  63
        For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.
  64
        For virtue’s self may too much zeal be had:
The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.
  65
        For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
Only to show how many tastes he wanted.
What brought Sir Visto’s ill-got wealth to waste?
Some demon whispered, “Visto! have a taste.”
  66
        For wit and judgment often are at strife,
Though meant each other’s aid, like man and wife.
  67
        Force first made conquest, and that conquest law,
Till Superstition taught the tyrant awe,
Then shar’d the tyranny, then lent it aid,
And gods of conqu’rors, slaves of subjects made:
She, ’midst the lightning’s blaze and thunder’s sound,
When rock’d the mountains, and when groan’d the ground,
She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray
To Power unseen, and mightier fat than they:
She, from the rending earth and bursting skies,
Saw gods descend, and fiends infernal rise;
Here fixed the dreadful, there the blest abodes;
Fear made her devils, and weak hope her gods.
  68
        Form’d by thy converse, happily to steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
  69
        Fortune in men has some small difference made,
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade.
  70
        From loveless youth to unrespected age
No passion gratified, except her rage;
So much the fury still outran the wit,
The pleasure miss’d her, and the scandal hit.
  71
        Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace
If not, by any means get wealth and place.
  72
        Glory and gain the industrious tribe provoke;
And gentle dullness ever loves a joke.
  73
        Good sense, which only is the gift of heaven,
And though no science, fairly worth the seven.
  74
                        Hail, wayward Queen!
Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen;
Parent of vapors, and of female wit,
Who give the hysteric, or poetic fit,
On various tempers act by various ways,
Make some take physic, others scribble plays:
Who cause the proud their visits to delay,
And send the godly in a pet to pray.
  75
        Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
  76
        Hear how the birds, on ev’ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day!
  77
        Heav’n first taught letters for some wretch’s aid,
Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid.
  78
        Heaven first taught letters for some wretch’s aid,
Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires;
The virgin’s wish, without her fears, impart;
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart;
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.
  79
        Heaven forming each on other to depend,
A master, or a servant, or a friend,
Bids each on other for assistance call,
Till one man’s weakness grows the strength of all.
  80
        Heaven gave to woman the peculiar grace
To spin, to weep, and cully human race.
  81
        Hence the fool’s paradise, the statesman’s scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid’s romantic wish, the chemist’s flame,
And poet’s vision of eternal fame.
  82
        Here Ceres’ gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper’s hand.
  83
        Here, thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.
  84
        His gardens next your admiration call,
On every side you look, behold the wall!
No pleasing intricacies intervene,
No artful wildness to perplex the scene;
Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,
And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suffering eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain, never to be play’d,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade.
  85
        Horses (thou say’st) and asses men may try,
And ring suspected vessels ere they buy;
But wives, a random choice, untried they take;
They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake;
Then, nor till then, the veil’s removed away,
And all the woman glares in open day.
  86
        How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
  87
        How shall I lose the sin yet keep the sense,
And love th’ offender, yet detest the offence?
  88
        I am his highness’ dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
  89
        I was not born for courts or great affairs;
I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers.
  90
        If I am right, Thy grace impart,
  Still in the right to stay;
If I am wrong, O teach my heart
  To find that better way!
  91
        If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind;
Or, ravished with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell, damned to everlasting fame!
  92
        If to her share some female errors fall
Look on her face, and you’ll forget ’em all.
  93
        Immodest words admit of no defence
For want of decency is want of sense.
  94
        In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
  95
        In every work regard the writer’s end,
Since none can compass more than they intend.
  96
        In faith and hope the world will disagree,
But all mankind’s concern is charity;
All must be false that thwart this one great end,
And all of God that bless mankind or mend.
  97
        In genial spring, beneath the quiv’ring shade,
Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand;
With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.
  98
        In pride, in reas’ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the bless’d abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
Aspiring to be angels men rebel;
And who but wishes to invert the laws
Of order, sins against th’ Eternal cause.
  99
        In that soft season, when descending show’rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow’rs;
When opening buds salute the welcome day,
And earth relenting feels the genial ray.
  100
        In various talk th’ instructive hours they past,
Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last;
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.
  101
        Intestine war no more our passions wage,
And giddy factions bear away their rage.
  102
        Is that a birthday? ’tis, alas! too clear;
’Tis but the funeral of the former year.
  103
        Judge not of actions by their mere effect;
Dive to the centre, and the cause detect;
Great deeds from meanest springs may take their course,
And smallest virtues from a mighty source.
  104
        Judges and senates have been bought for gold;
Esteem and love were never to be sold.
  105
        Know then this truth, enough for man to know,
Virtue alone is happiness below.
  106
        Ladies, like variegated tulips, show
’Tis to their changes half their charms we owe.
  107
        Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
Learn from the beasts the physic of the field;
Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave.
  108
        Learn to live well, or fairly make your will;
You’ve play’d, and lov’d, and ate, and drank your fill;
Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age
Comes titt’ring on, and shoves you from the stage.
  109
        Leave such to trifle with more grace and ease,
Whom Folly pleases, and whose Follies please.
  110
        Led by my hand, he saunter’d Europe round,
And gather’d every vice on Christian ground.
  111
        Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame,
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it Fame.
  112
        Let us (since life can little more supply
Than just to look about us and to die)
Expatiate free o’er all this scene of man;
A mighty maze! but not without a plan.
  113
        Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne,
They rise, they break, and to that sea return.
  114
        Like doctors thus, when much dispute has past,
We find our tenets just the same at last.
  115
        Line after line my gushing eyes o’erflow,
Led thro’ a sad variety of woe;
Now warm in love, now with’ring in my bloom,
Lost in a convent’s solitary gloom!
  116
        Lo! the poor Indian—whose untutor’d 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,
Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heav’n.
  117
        Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure’s smiling train,
Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain;
These, mix’d with art, and to due bounds confin’d,
Make and maintain the balance of the mind:
The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife
Gives all the strength and color of our life.
  118
        Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes,
Tenets with books and principles with times.
  119
        Mark what unvary’d laws preserve each state,
Laws wise as Nature, and as fixed as Fate.
  120
        Me let the tender office long engage
To rock the cradle of reposing age;
With lenient arts extend a mother’s breath,
Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye!
And keep awhile one parent from the sky.
  121
        Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos’d as things forgot.
  122
        Men, some to business, some to pleasure take,
*        *        *        *        *
Men, some to quiet, some to public strife,
But every lady would be queen for life.
  123
        Modest plainness sets off sprightly wit,
For works may have more wit than does ’em good,
As bodies perish through excess of blood.
  124
        Music resembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
And which a master-hand alone can reach.
  125
        Music the fiercest grief can charm,
And fate’s severest rage disarm.
Music can soften pain to ease,
And make despair and madness please;
Our joys below it can improve,
And antedate the bliss above.
  126
        Nature and Nature’s laws lay hid in night.
God said “Let Newton be”! and all was light.
  127
        Nature made every fop to plague his brother,
Just as one beauty mortifies another.
  128
        Never elated while one man’s oppress’d;
Never dejected while another’s blessed.
  129
        Next, o’er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole,
How here he sipp’d, how there he plunder’d snug,
And suck’d all o’er, like an industrious bug.
  130
        Not always actions show the man; we find
Who does a kindness is not therefore kind.
  131
        Not chaos-like together crush’d and bruis’d,
But, as the world, harmoniously confus’d,
Where order in variety we see,
And where, though all things differ, all agree.
  132
        Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light,
And drew behind the cloudy veil of night.
  133
        O let us still the secret joy partake,
To follow virtue even for virtue’s sake.
  134
        O! bless’d with temper, whose unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day;
She who can own a sister’s charms, or hear
Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear;
She who ne’er answers till a husband cools,
Of, if she rules him, never shows she rules.
  135
        O’er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence and a dread repose;
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades ev’ry flower, and darkens ev’ry green;
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
  136
        Of all the causes that 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.
  137
        Of little use, the man you may suppose,
Who says in verse what others say in prose;
Yet let me show a poet’s of some weight,
And (though no soldier) useful to the state,
What will a child learn sooner than a song?
What better teach a foreigner the tongue?
What’s long or short, each accent where to place
And speak in public with some sort of grace?
  138
        Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild;
In Wit a man; Simplicity, a child.
  139
        Offend her, and she knows not to forgive;
Oblige her, and she’ll hate you while you live.
  140
        Oh blindness to the future! kindly given,
That each may fill the circle mark’d by heav’n;
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall.
  141
        Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send,
Long health, long youth, long pleasure—and a friend.
  142
        Oh! blest with temper, whose unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day.
  143
        Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise,
By mountains pil’d on mountains to the skies?
Heav’n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
  144
        Oh, when shall Britain, conscious of her claim,
Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame?
In living medals see her wars enroll’d,
And vanquished realms supply recording gold?
  145
        Old politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in business to the last.
  146
        On life’s vast ocean diversely we sail,
Reason the card, but passion is the gale.
  147
        On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe,
Wrapt in a gown, for sickness and for show.
  148
        One master-passion in the breast,
Like Aaron’s serpent, swallows up the rest.
  149
        One science only will one genius fit,
So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
  150
        One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas.
  151
        One solid dish his weekday meal affords,
An added pudding solemniz’d the Lord’s.
  152
        Or looks on heav’n with more than mortal eyes,
Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confess her home.
  153
        Others import yet nobler arts from France,
Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
  154
        Our grandsire, ere of Eve possess’d,
Alone, and e’en in Paradise unblest,
With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey’d,
And wander’d in the solitary shade;
The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow’d
Woman, the last, the best reserv’d of God.
  155
        Our plenteous streams a various race supply,
The bright-eye perch with fins of Tyrian dye,
The silver eel, in shining volumes roll’d,
The yellow carp, in scales bedropp’d with gold,
Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains,
And pikes, the tyrants of the wat’ry plains.
  156
        Our rural ancestors, with little blest,
Patient of labor when the end was rest,
Indulg’d the day that hous’d their annual grain,
With feasts, and off’rings, and a thankful strain.
  157
        Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark,
Sighs for the shades—“How charming is a park?”
A park is purchas’d, but the fair he sees
All bath’d in tears—“O odious, odious trees!”
  158
        Pleas’d to look forward, pleas’d to look behind,
And count each birthday with a grateful mind.
  159
        Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood,
Our greatest evil, or our greatest good.
  160
        Pour the full tide of eloquence along,
Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong.
  161
        Pretty! in amber to observe the forms
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms!
The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,
But wonder how the devil they got there.
  162
        Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began,
A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.
  163
        Reason raise o’er instinct as you can,
In this ’tis God directs, in that ’tis man.
  164
        Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words,—health, peace, and competence.
  165
        Reason, however able, cool at best,
Cares not for service, or but serves when prest,
Stays till we call, and then not often near.
  166
        Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.
  167
        Riches, like insects, when conceal’d they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly.
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
This year a reservoir, to keep and spare;
The next a fountain, spouting thro’ his heir
In lavish streams to quench a country’s thirst,
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.
  168
        Satire or sense, alas! can it feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
  169
        Satire’s my weapon, but I’m too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.
  170
        Say first, of God above or man below,
What can we reason but from what we know?
  171
        Say why are beauties praised and honored most,
The wise man’s passion and the vain man’s Toast.
  172
        Search then 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.
  173
        See Christians, Jews, one heavy Sabbath keep,
And all the western world believe and sleep.
  174
        See from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings;
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
  175
        See how the World its Veterans rewards!
A Youth of Frolics, an old Age of Cards;
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end,
Young without Lovers, old without a Friend;
A Fop their Passion, but their Prize a Sot;
Alive ridiculous, and dead forgot.
  176
        See sin in state, majestically drunk;
Proud as a peeress, prouder as a punk.
  177
        See the wild waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very tombs now vanished like their dead!
  178
        See, through this air, this ocean, and this earth,
All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
Above, how high! progressive life may go!
Around, how wide; how deep extend below!
Vast chain of being! which from God began,
Nature’s ethereal, human, angel, man,
Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see,
No glass can reach, from infinite to Thee,
From Thee to nothing.
  179
        Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul;
Reason’s comparing balance rules the whole.
Man, but for that, no action could attend,
And, but for this, were active to no end:
Fix’d like a plant on his peculiar spot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot;
Or, meteor-like, flame lawless thro’ the void,
Destroying others, by himself destroy’d.
  180
        Shakespeare (whom you and every playhouse bill
Style the divine, the matchless, what you will)
Far gain, not glory, wing’d his roving flight
And grew immortal in his own despite.
  181
        She saw her sons with purple death expire,
Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,
A dreadful series of intestine wars,
Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.
  182
        She who ne’er answers till a husband cools,
Or, if she rules him, never shews she rules;
Charms by accepting, by submitting sways,
Yet has her humour most when she obeys.
  183
        Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu’d I said;
Tie up the knocker, say I’m sick, I’m dead.
  184
        Sleep and death, two twins of winged race,
Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace.
  185
        Soft o’er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
  186
        Some place the bliss in action, some in ease,
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
  187
        Some praise at morning what they blame at night,
But always think the last opinion right.
  188
        Some to conceit alone their taste confine,
And glittering thoughts struck out at ev’ry line;
Pleas’d with a work where nothing’s just or fit;
One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
  189
        Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
  190
        Sped the soft intercourse from soul to soul
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
  191
        Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
  192
        Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
In action faithful, and in honor clear;
Who broke no promise, served no private end,
Who gain’d no title, and who lost no friend;
Ennobled by himself, by all approv’d,
And prais’d, unenvied, by the muse he lov’d.
  193
        Taste, that eternal wanderer, which flies
From head to ears, and now from ears to eyes.
  194
        Teach me to feel another’s woe,
  To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
  That mercy show to me.
  195
          *  *  *  th’ approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck’d the glade,
And the low sun had lengthen’d ev’ry shade.
  196
        The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.
  197
        The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read,
With loads of learned lumber in his head.
  198
        The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daisies search’d the plain.
  199
        The difference is as great between
The optics seeing as the objects seen.
All manners take a tincture from our own;
Or come discolor’d through our passions shown;
Or fancy’s beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
  200
        The flying rumours gather’d as they roll’d,
Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
And all who told it added something new,
And all who heard it made enlargements too.
  201
        The generous Critic fann’d the Poet’s fire,
And taught the world with reason to admire.
  202
        The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule,
That ev’ry man in want is knave or fool.
“God cannot love (says Blunt, with tearless eyes)
The wretch he starves”—and piously denies;
But the good bishop, with a meeker air,
Admits and leaves them Providence’s care.
  203
        The heart resolves this matter in a trice,
“Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.”
  204
        The hour conceal’d and so remote the fear,
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near.
  205
        The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
  206
        The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
  207
        The spider’s touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
  208
        The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind,
Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,
Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
And seas but join the regions they divide;
Earth’s distant ends our glory shall behold,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old.
  209
        The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
  210
        The world with calumny abounds,
The whitest virtue slander wounds;
There are whose joy is, night and day,
To talk a character away:
Eager from rout to rout they haste,
To blast the generous and the chaste,
And hunting reputations down,
Proclaim their triumphs through the town
What mind’s in such a base employment
To feel the slightest self-enjoyment!
  211
        Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing;
Now hawthorns blossom.
  212
        There affectation, with a sickly mien,
Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen.
  213
        There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late
She finds some honest gander for her mate.
  214
        Think not, when woman’s transient breath is fled,
That all her vanities at once are dead;
Succeeding vanities she still regards,
And though she plays no more, o’erlooks the cards.
Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive,
And love of Ombre, after death survive.
For when the fair in all their pride expire,
To their first elements their souls retire:
The sprites of fiery termagants in flame
Mount up, and take a salamander’s name.
Soft yielding minds to water glide away,
And sip, with nymphs, their elemental tea.
The graver prude sinks downward to a gnome,
In search of mischief still on earth to roam.
The light coquettes in sylphs aloft repair,
And sport and flutter in the fields of air.
  215
        This nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
Nourished two locks, which graceful hung behind
In equal curls, and well conspir’d to deck,
With shining ringlets, the smooth ivory neck.
Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains,
And mighty hearts are held in slender chains,
With hairy springes we the birds betray,
Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey.
  216
        Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
  217
        Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
  Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
  Tell where I lie.
  218
        Thus when we view some well-proportion’d dome,
*        *        *        *        *
No single parts unequally surprise,
All comes united to th’ admiring eyes.
  219
        Thus, day by day, and month by month, we pass’d;
It pleas’d the Lord to take my spouse at last.
I tore my gown, I soil’d my locks with dust,
And beat my breasts—as wretched widows must.
Before my face my handkerchief I spread,
To hide the flood of tears I did—not shed.
  220
        ’Tis education forms the common mind,
Just as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclined.
  221
        ’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.
  222
        ’Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all.
  223
        ’Tis not enough your counsel still be true,
Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
*        *        *        *        *
Without good breeding, truth is disapprov’d;
That only makes superior sense belov’d.
  224
        ’Tis strange the miser should his cares employ
To gain those riches he can ne’er enjoy.
  225
        ’Tis thus the mercury of man is fix’d,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix’d.
  226
        ’Tis use alone that sanctifies expense
And splendor borrows all her rays from sense.
  227
        ’Tis with our judgments as our watches; none
Are just alike, yet each believes his own.
  228
        To balance fortune by a just expense,
Join with Economy, Magnificence.
  229
        To heirs unknown descends th’ unguarded store,
Or wanders, heaven-directed, to the poor.
  230
        To Him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all!
  231
        To this sad shrine, whoe’er thou art! draw near,
Here lies the friend most lov’d, the son most dear;
Who ne’er knew joy but friendship might divide,
Or gave his father grief but when he died.
  232
        To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o’er each scene, and be what they behold—
For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.
  233
        To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg’d through sacred lust of praise!
Ah, ne’er so dire a thirst of glory boast,
Nor in the critic let the man be lost.
  234
        To whom can riches give repute or trust,
Content or pleasure, but the good and just?
Judges and senates have been bought for gold,
Esteem and love were never to be sold.
  235
        Trace science then, with modesty thy guide;
First strip off all her equipage of pride;
Deduct what is but vanity, or dress,
Or learning’s luxury, or idleness;
Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain,
Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain;
Expunge the whole, or lop th’ excrescent parts
Of all our vices have created arts;
Then see how little the remaining sum
Which serv’d the past, and must the times to come.
  236
        Trade it may help, society extend,
But lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend:
It raises armies in a nation’s aid,
But bribes a senate, and the land’s betray’d.
  237
        True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learn’d to dance.
  238
        True, conscious honor is to feel no sin:
He’s arm’d without that’s innocent within.
  239
        Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,
Make use of ev’ry friend—and ev’ry foe.
  240
        Tumultuous waves embroil’d the bellowing flood,
All trembling, deafen’d, and aghast we stood!
No more the vessel plough’d the dreadful wave,
Fear seized the mighty, and unnerved the brave.
  241
        Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
One clear, unchanged, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of art.
  242
        Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
  243
        Virtue may choose the high or low degree,
’Tis just alike to Virtue and to me;
Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king,
She’s still the same belov’d contented thing.
  244
        Virtue she finds too painful an endeavor,
Content to dwell in decencies forever.
  245
        Virtuous and vicious every man must be,
Few in th’ extreme, but all in the degree.
  246
        Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees.
  247
        We conquered France, but felt our captive’s charms,
Her art victorious triumph’d o’er our arms.
  248
        We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow;
Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.
  249
        Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffus’d;
As poison heals, in just proportion us’d;
In heaps, like ambergrise, a stink it lies,
But well dispers’d, is incense to the skies.
  250
        What Conscience dictates to be done,
  Or warns me not to do;
This teach me more than Hell to shun,
  That more than Heav’n pursue.
  251
        What dire offence from amorous causes springs;
What mighty contests rise from trivial things!
  252
                  What is it to be wise?
’Tis but to know how little can be known,
To see all others’ faults, and feel our own.
  253
        What nature wants, commodious gold bestows;
’Tis thus we cut the bread another sows.
  254
        What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is virtue’s prize.
  255
            What so pure, which envious tongues will spare?
Some wicked wits have libell’d all the fair,
With matchless impudence they style a wife,
The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;
A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,
A night invasion, and a mid-day devil;
Let not the wise these sland’rous words regard,
But curse the bones of ev’ry living bard.
  256
        What though no friends in sable weeds appear,
Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year?
And bear about the mockery of woe
To midnight dances, and the public show!
  257
        When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch’d away.
  258
        When to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
  259
        When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
And, crown’d with corn, their thanks to Ceres yield.
  260
        Where grows?—where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
  261
        Whether with reason or with instinct blest,
Know, all enjoy that power which suits them best;
To bliss alike by that direction tend,
And find the means proportion’d to their end.
  262
        “With every pleasing, every prudent part,
Say, What can Chloe want?”—she wants a heart.
She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought;
But never, never reach’d one generous thought.
  263
        Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name.
  264
        Who combats bravely is not therefore brave:
He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave.
  265
        Who finds not Providence all good and wise,
Alike in what it gives, and what denies.
  266
        Who knows but He, whose hand the lightning forms,
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms,
Pours fierce ambition in a Cæsar’s mind.
  267
        Who reasons wisely, is not therefore wise,
His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.
  268
        Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl’d,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
  269
        Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
And sound casuists doubt like you and me?
  270
        Who taught the nations of the field and wood
To shun their poison and to choose their food.
  271
        Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her mind,
Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind.
  272
        Who would not praise Patricio’s high desert,
His hand unstain’d, his uncorrupted heart,
His comprehensive head? all interests weigh’d,
All Europe sav’d, yet Britain not betray’d.
  273
        Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be.
  274
        Why will you break the Sabbath of my days?
Now sick alike of envy and of praise.
  275
        Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserv’d to blame, or to commend,
A tim’rous foe, and a suspicious friend.
  276
        Words are like leaves, and where they most abound,
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
  277
        Ye flowers that droop forsaken by the spring;
Ye birds that left by summer cease to sing;
Yet trees that fade when autumn heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?
  278
        Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess …
Bear me, O bear me to sequestered scenes,
The bow’ry mazes, and surrounding greens.
  279
        Years following years, steal something every day;
At last they steal us from ourselves away.
  280
        Yet shall thy grave with rising flow’rs be dressed,
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast;
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow.
  281
        You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come,
Knock as you please, there’s nobody at home.
  282
  A brave man thinks no one his superior who does him an injury; for he has it then in his power to make himself superior to the other by forgiving it.  283
  A field of glory is a field for all.  284
  A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame.  285
  A king may be a tool, a thing of straw; but if he serves to frighten our enemies, and secure our property, it is well enough; a scarecrow is a thing of straw, but it protects the corn.  286
  A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to-day than he was yesterday.  287
  A person who is too nice an observer of the business of the crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labor of the bees, will often be stung for his curiosity.  288
  A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.  289
  A sweet forgetfulness of human care.  290
  A tree is a nobler object than a prince in his coronation robes.  291
  A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.  292
  A youth of frolic, an old age of cards.  293
  Act well your part; there all the honor lies.  294
  Age and want sit smiling at the gate.  295
  All looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.  296
  All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers; hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.  297
  All other goods by fortune’s hand are given; a wife is the peculiar gift of heaven.  298
  All seems infected that the infected spy, and all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.  299
  All-potent flattery, universal lord!  300
  An excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie; for an excuse is a lie guarded.  301
  An honest man’s the noblest work of God.  302
  An obstinate man does not hold opinions, but they hold him.  303
  And empty heads console with empty sound.  304
  And gentle Dullness ever loves a joke.  305
  And mistress of herself though china fall.  306
  And reason raise o’er instinct as you can, in this ’tis God directs, in that ’tis man.  307
  And sip with nymphs their elemental tea.  308
  And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.  309
  And the touch’d needle trembles to the pole.  310
  And truths divine came mended from that tongue.  311
  Art still followed where Rome’s eagles flew.  312
  As yet a child, not yet a fool to fame, I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.  313
  Astrologers that future fates foreshow.  314
  At every word a reputation dies.  315
  At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it; but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.  316
  Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old.  317
  Beauty draws us with a single hair.  318
  Beauty, frail flower that every season fears, blooms in thy colors for a thousand years.  319
  Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!  320
  Bliss is the same, in subject or in king.  321
  Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix.  322
  Can pocket states, or fetch or carry kings.  323
  Caracci’s strength, Correggio’s softer line, Paulo’s free course, and Titian’s warmth divine.  324
  Cavil you may, but never criticise.  325
  Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, yet has her humor most when she obeys.  326
  Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.  327
  Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty; it is not only needless, but impairs what it would improve.  328
  Devotion’s self shall steal a thought from heaven.  329
  Die of a rose in aromatic pain.  330
  Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.  331
  Envy, to which the ignoble mind’s a slave, is emulation in the learned or brave.  332
  Evasive of the bridal day, she gives fond hopes to all, and all with hope deceives.  333
  Every man has just as much vanity as he wants understanding.  334
  Every woman is at heart a rake.  335
  Extremes in nature equal ends produce.  336
  Fair tresses man’s imperial race ensnare.  337
  Fame can never make us lie down contentedly on a death-bed.  338
  Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.  339
  Fine by defect, and delicately weak.  340
  Fine sense and exalted sense are not half as useful as common sense. There are forty men of wit for one man of sense. And he that will carry nothing about him but gold will be every day at a loss for readier change.  341
  Fools admire, but men of sense approve.  342
  Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.  343
  For forms of faith let graceless zealots fight; his can’t be wrong whose life is in the right.  344
  For never, never wicked man was wise.  345
  From the moment one sets up for an author, one must be treated as ceremoniously, that is as unfaithfully, “as a king’s favorite or a king.”  346
  Genius involves both envy and calumny.  347
  Get your enemies to read your works in order to mend them, for your friend is so much your second self that he will judge too like you.  348
  Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense weigh thy opinion against Providence.  349
  Grant me honest fame or grant me none.  350
  Grove nods at grove.  351
  Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.  352
  Half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.  353
  He best shall paint them who shall feel them most.  354
  He mounts the storm and walks upon the wind.  355
  He who tells a lie is not sensible how great a task he undertakes; for he must be forced to invent twenty more to maintain that one.  356
  He’s armed without that’s innocent within.  357
  Health consists with temperance alone.  358
  Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate.  359
  Hew the block off, and get out the man.  360
  Hills peep o’er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!  361
  His praise is lost who waits till all commend.  362
  Hoary whiskers and a forky beard.  363
  Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.  364
  Hope springs eternal in the human breast.  365
  Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.  366
  How the wit brightens! how the style refines!  367
  I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.  368
  I begin where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures.  369
  I have more zeal than wit.  370
  I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another’s misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.  371
  I’ll print it, and shame the fools.  372
  Immodest words admit of no defence.  373
  In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew.  374
  In this commonplace world every one is said to be romantic who either admires a fine thing or does one.  375
  In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, alike fantastic if too new or old.  376
  It is not so correct to say that he speaks from nature as that she speaks through him.  377
  It is sure the hardest science to forget!  378
  It is vanity which makes the rake at twenty, the worldly man at forty, and the retired man at sixty. We are not to think that best in general for which we find ourselves best fitted in particular.  379
  It is very natural for a young friend and a young lover to think the persons they love have nothing to do but to please them.  380
  It is with narrow-souled people as with narrow-necked bottles—the less they have in them the more noise they make in pouring it out.  381
  Jarring interests of themselves create the according music of a well-mixed state.  382
  Judges and senates have been bought for gold.  383
  Just as the twig is bent the tree is inclined.  384
  Just disease to luxury succeeds.  385
  Ladies like variegated tulips show.  386
  Ladies, like variegated tulips, show ’tis to their changes half their charms we owe.  387
  Learn from the beasts the physic of the field.  388
  Let Fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, as long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.  389
  Let those teach others who themselves excel; and censure freely, who have written well.  390
  Looks through nature up to nature’s God.  391
  Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies.  392
  Love the offender, yet detest the offence.  393
  Lull’d by soft zephyrs thro’ the broken pane.  394
  Man, like the generous vine, supported lives; the strength he gains is from the embrace he gives.  395
  Mankind is unamendable.  396
  Men dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake!  397
  Men must be taught as though you taught them not.  398
  Men would be angels, angels would be gods.  399
  Monuments, like men, submit to fate.  400
  My languid numbers have forgot to flow, and fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.  401
  Nature and nature’s laws lay hid in night; God said, Let Newton be; and all was light.  402
  No creature smarts so little as a fool.  403
  Not a vanity is given in vain.  404
  Not poetry, but prose run mad.  405
  Nothing is more certain than that much of the force, as well as grace, of arguments or instructions depends on their conciseness.  406
  O name forever sad, forever dear!  407
  Of darkness visible so much be lent, as half to show, half veil, the deep intent.  408
  Oft in dreams invention we bestow to change a flounce or add a furbelow.  409
  One science only will one genius fit, so vast is art, so narrow human wit.  410
  One self-approving hour whole years outweighs of stupid starers and of loud huzzas.  411
  Order is heaven’s first law.  412
  Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.  413
  Party is the madness of many for the gain of a few.  414
  Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the tomb.  415
  Poplars and alders ever quivering played, and nodding cypress formed a fragrant shade.  416
  Pour the full tide of eloquence along, serenely pure, and yet divinely strong.  417
  Praise undeserved is scandal in disguise.  418
  Pretty conceptions, fine metaphors, glittering expressions, and something of a neat cast of verse are properly the dress, gems, or loose ornaments of poetry.  419
  Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.  420
  Ravished with the whistling of a name.  421
  Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, lie in three words—health, peace, and competence.  422
  Rogues in rags are kept in countenance by rogues in ruffles.  423
  Scipio, great in his triumphs, in retirement great.  424
  Self-love and reason to one end aspire.  425
  She comes unlooked for if she comes at all.  426
  She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen.  427
  Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a diffidence in our earthly state.  428
  Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes.  429
  Silence! coeval with eternity! thou wert ere Nature’s self began to be; thine was the sway ere heaven was formed on earth, ere fruitful thought conceived creation’s birth.  430
  Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep.  431
  So obliging that he ne’er oblig’d.  432
  So vast is art; so narrow human wit.  433
  Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows.  434
  Soft without weakness; without glaring, gay.  435
  Solid pudding against empty praise.  436
  Some old men, by continually praising the time of their youth, would almost persuade us that there were no fools in those days; but unluckily they are left themselves for examples.  437
  Some people are commended for a giddy kind of good-humor, which is as much a virtue as drunkenness.  438
  Some to church repair, not for the doctrine, but the music there.  439
  Sometimes virtue starves while vice is fed.  440
  Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.  441
  Such as are still observing upon others are like those who are always abroad at other men’s houses, reforming everything there while their own runs to ruin.  442
  Such labored nothings, in so strange a style, amaze the unlearned and make the learned smile.  443
  Sure never to o’ershoot, but just to hit.  444
  Talk what you will of taste, my friend, you’ll find two of a face as soon as of a mind.  445
  Tell me, my soul! can this be death?  446
  Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.  447
  Th’ unwilling gratitude of base mankind!  448
  That each from other differs, first confess; next that he varies from himself no less.  449
  The cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead have been ransacked to publish private letters and divulge to all mankind the most secret sentiments of friendship.  450
  The character of covetousness is what a man generally acquires more through some niggardliness or ill grace in little and inconsiderable things, than in expenses of any consequence.  451
  The devil was piqued such saintship to behold, and longed to tempt him.  452
  The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, and in the cunning, truth’s itself a lie.  453
  The feast of reason and the flow of soul.  454
  The flowers are gone when the fruits appear to ripen.  455
  The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence.  456
  The grave where even the great find rest.  457
  The greatest can but blaze and pass away.  458
  The laughers are a majority.  459
  The learn’d reflect on what before they knew.  460
  The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.  461
  The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.  462
  The lot of man, to suffer and to die.  463
  The many-headed monster of the pit.  464
  The mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease.  465
  The most positive men are the most credulous, since they most believe themselves, and advise most with their falsest flatterer and worst enemy—their own self-love.  466
  The nations bleed where’er her steps she turns; the groan still deepens, and the combat burns.  467
  The never-failing vice of fools.  468
  The proper study of mankind is man.  469
  The pure and noble, the graceful and dignified, simplicity of language is nowhere in such perfection as in the Scriptures and Homer. The whole book of Job, with regard both to sublimity of thought and morality, exceeds, beyond all comparison, the most noble parts of Homer.  470
  The race by vigor, not by vaunts, is won.  471
  The right divine of kings to govern wrong!  472
  The ruling passion conquers reason still.  473
  The sacred rust of twice ten hundred years.  474
  The search of our future being is but a needless, anxious, and uncertain haste to be knowing, sooner than we can, what, without all this solicitude, we shall know a little later.  475
  The skies yet blushing with departed light.  476
  The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy, is virtue’s prize.  477
  The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.  478
  The villain’s censure is extorted praise.  479
  The whispering breeze pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.  480
  The world forgetting, by the world forgot.  481
  The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.  482
  Then marble, soften’d into life, grew warm.  483
  Then sculpture and her sister arts revived; stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live.  484
  There is a majesty in simplicity which is far above the quantities of wit.  485
  There is but one way I know of conversing safely with all men; that is, not by concealing what we say or do, but by saying or doing nothing that deserves to be concealed.  486
  There is no study that is not capable of delighting us after a little application to it.  487
  There is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship; and, indeed, friendship itself is only a part of virtue.  488
  There is nothing wanting to make all rational and disinterested people in the world of one religion, but that they should talk together every day.  489
  There never was any party, faction, sect, or cabal whatsoever, in which the most ignorant were not the most violent; for a bee is not a busier animal than a blockhead.  490
  There should be, methinks, as little merit in loving a woman for her beauty as in loving a man for his prosperity; both being equally subject to change.  491
  There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades, thin trees arise, that shun each other’s shade.  492
  They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.  493
  Thou Great First Cause, least understood.  494
  Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.  495
  Time conquers all, and we must Time obey.  496
  Tired he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.  497
  ’T is expectation makes a blessing dear.  498
  ’Tis not a lip or eye we beauty call, but the joint force and full result of all.  499
  To be angry, is to revenge the fault of others upon ourselves.  500
  To buy books only because they were published by an eminent printer, is much as if a man should buy clothes that did not fit him, only because made by some famous tailor.  501
  To dazzle let the vain design; to raise the thought, and touch the heart, be thine.  502
  To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.  503
  To err is human; to forgive, divine!  504
  To pardon those absurdities in ourselves which we cannot suffer in others is neither better nor worse than to be more willing to be fools ourselves than to have others so.  505
  To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, who never mentions hell to ears polite.  506
  To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise.  507
  To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.  508
  Trifles themselves are elegant in him.  509
  True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those move easiest who have learned to dance.  510
  True self-love and social are the same.  511
  Truth needs no flowers of speech.  512
  Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.  513
  Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wise.  514
  Vast chain of being, which from God began, Nature’s ethereal, human, angel, man.  515
  Vital spark of heav’nly flame!  516
  We ought, in humanity, no more to despise a man for the misfortunes of the mind than for those of the body, when they are such as he cannot help; were this thoroughly considered we should mo more laugh at a man for having his brains cracked than for having his head broke.  517
  What is every year of a wise man’s life but a censure or critic on the past?  518
  What is fame? a fancied life in others’ breath.  519
  What mighty contests rise from trivial things!  520
  What thin partitions sense from thought divide!  521
  What Tully said of war may be applied to disputing: “It should be always so managed as to remember that the only true end of it is peace.” But generally true disputants are like true sportsmen,—their whole delight is in the pursuit; and the disputant no more cares for the truth than the sportsman for the hare.  522
  When I die, I should be ashamed to leave enough to build me a monument if there were a wanting friend above ground. I would enjoy the pleasure of what I give by giving it alive and seeing another enjoy it.  523
  When men grow virtuous in their old age, they only make a sacrifice to God of the devil’s leavings.  524
  When rosy morning glimmered o’er the dales.  525
  When two people compliment each other with the choice of anything, each of them generally gets that which he likes least.  526
  Where blended lie the oppressor and the oppressed.  527
  Where order in variety we see, and where, though all things differ, all agree.  528
  Wherever I find a great deal of gratitude in a poor man I take it for granted there would be as much generosity if he were a rich man.  529
  While I live, no rich or noble knave shall walk the world in credit to his grave.  530
  Who dare to love their country and be poor.  531
  Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise?  532
  Whoever thinks a perfect work to see, thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be.  533
  Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!  534
  Wit and judgment often are at strife.  535
  With loads of learned lumber in his head.  536
  With that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.  537
  Woman is at best a contradiction still.  538
  Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow.  539
  Ye little stars, hide your diminish’d rays.  540
  Yet eat in dreams, the custard of the day.  541
  Yet hence the poor are clothed, the hungry fed; health to himself, and to his infants bread, the laborer bears.  542
  Zeal, then, not charity, became the guide.  543
 
 
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