The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq: Translations and imitationsJ. and P. Knapton, 1752 |
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الصفحة 3
... tears in fadder notes to flow , And tun'd my heart to Elegies of woe . I burn , I burn , as when thro ' ripen'd corn By driving winds the spreading flames are born . 10 Phaon to Ætna's fcorching fields retires , While I confume with ...
... tears in fadder notes to flow , And tun'd my heart to Elegies of woe . I burn , I burn , as when thro ' ripen'd corn By driving winds the spreading flames are born . 10 Phaon to Ætna's fcorching fields retires , While I confume with ...
الصفحة 9
... tears : My brother next , neglecting wealth and fame , 75 Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame : An infant daughter late my griefs encreas'd , And all a mother's cares diftract my breast , Alas , what more could fate itself impose ...
... tears : My brother next , neglecting wealth and fame , 75 Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame : An infant daughter late my griefs encreas'd , And all a mother's cares diftract my breast , Alas , what more could fate itself impose ...
الصفحة 11
... at least the love you will not give . See , while I write , my words are loft in tears ; The lefs my fenfe , the more my love appears . 110 Si tam certus eras hinc ire , modeftius îffes , SAPPHO TO PHAON , TO PHAON , 11.
... at least the love you will not give . See , while I write , my words are loft in tears ; The lefs my fenfe , the more my love appears . 110 Si tam certus eras hinc ire , modeftius îffes , SAPPHO TO PHAON , TO PHAON , 11.
الصفحة 13
... tear did you , no parting kiss receive , Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve . No lover's gift your Sappho could ... tears again . Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame , Whofe firft - born infant feeds the fun'ral flame ...
... tear did you , no parting kiss receive , Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve . No lover's gift your Sappho could ... tears again . Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame , Whofe firft - born infant feeds the fun'ral flame ...
الصفحة 15
... tears , His hated image ever haunts my eyes , And why this grief ? thy daughter lives , he cries . Stung with my love and furious with despair , All torn my garments , and my bofom bare , 140 My woes thy crimes , I to the world proclaim ...
... tears , His hated image ever haunts my eyes , And why this grief ? thy daughter lives , he cries . Stung with my love and furious with despair , All torn my garments , and my bofom bare , 140 My woes thy crimes , I to the world proclaim ...
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الصفحة 30 - 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 flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
الصفحة 28 - And Saints with wonder heard the vows I made, Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew...
الصفحة 30 - The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
الصفحة 59 - The figur'd games of Greece the column grace, Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race. The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run ; The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone ; The champions in distorted postures threat ; 220 And all appear'd irregularly great. Here happy Horace tun'd th...
الصفحة 35 - Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
الصفحة 25 - Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard less kind than they?
الصفحة 33 - The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. I call aloud; it hears not what I say; I stretch my empty arms; it glides away: To dream once more I close my willing eyes; Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! 240 Alas no more!— methinks we wandring go Thro...
الصفحة 35 - When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll, And fwelling organs lift the rifing foul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priefts, tapers, temples, fwim before my fight : In feas of flame my plunging foul is drown'd, 275 While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round.
الصفحة 27 - em all: Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; No, make me mistress to the man I love; If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
الصفحة 27 - Oh! happy state! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature law...