The Works of Alexander Pope, Том 6

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Сторінка xxii - Age, and are now the friendships only of children. Very few can boast of hearts which they dare lay open to themselves, and of which, by whatever accident exposed, they do not shun a distinct and continued view ; and, certainly, what we hide from ourselves we do not show to our friends.
Сторінка 436 - Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
Сторінка 83 - HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire.
Сторінка 395 - Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, Sister Spirit, come away. . What is this absorbs me quite ! Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul! can this be death?
Сторінка 364 - I saw our friend twice after this was done, less peevish in his sickness than he used to be in his health, neither much afraid of dying, nor (which in him had been more likely) much ashamed of marrying.
Сторінка 184 - The numerous and violent claps of the whig party on the one side of the theatre, were echoed back by the tories on the other; while the author sweated behind the scenes with concern to find their applause proceeding more from the hand than the head.
Сторінка xxii - There is indeed no transaction which offers stronger temptations to fallacy and sophistication than epistolary intercourse. In the eagerness of conversation the first emotions of the mind often burst out before they are considered; in the tumult of business, interest and passion have their genuine effect; but a friendly letter is a calm and deliberate performance, in the cool of leisure, in the stillness of solitude, and surely no man sits down to depreciate by design his own character.
Сторінка xxii - ... his own character. Friendship has no tendency to secure veracity ; for by whom can a man so much wish to be thought better than he is, as by him whose kindness he desires to gain or keep? Even in writing to the world there is less constraint; the author is not confronted with his reader, and takes his chance of approbation among the different dispositions of mankind ; but a letter is addressed to a single mind, of which the prejudices and partialities are known ; and must, therefore, please,...
Сторінка 83 - Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away. In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation: And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Сторінка 187 - VITAL spark of heavenly flame! Quit, oh quit this mortal frame : Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying. Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away.

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