The Works of Alexander Pope, Volume 3

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R. Priestley, 1822
 

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Página 19 - 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.
Página 165 - 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. What blessings Thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, To enjoy is to obey.
Página 21 - 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...
Página 166 - Let not this weak, unknowing hand Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land On each I judge thy foe. 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.
Página 12 - Say first, of God above, or man below, What can we reason, but from what we know ? Of man, what see we but his station here, From which to reason, or to which refer? 20 Thro' worlds unnumber'd tho' the God be known, 'Tis ours to trace him only in our own.
Página 22 - In Pride, in reas'ning Pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest 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
Página 164 - To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind ; Yet gave me, in this dark estate, To see the good from ill ; And binding nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.
Página 35 - 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 : In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
Página 202 - twould a saint provoke" (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke), " No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.
Página 211 - No Thought advances, but her Eddy Brain Whisks it about, and down it goes again. Full sixty years the World has been her Trade, The wisest Fool much Time has ever made. From loveless youth to unrespected age, No Passion gratify'd except her Rage.

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