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Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!

Alexander Pope

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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
Translator
the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
Thoughts
Countless
Memories
Chamber
Brain
Chain
Many
Linked
Hidden
Chains
Lulled
Awake
Myriads
Rise
Chambers

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Whether with Reason, or with Instinct blest, Know, all enjoy that pow'r which suits them best.
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The lot of man - to suffer and to die.
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What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
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Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave, Is emulation in the learn'd or brave.
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For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.
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Two purposes in human nature rule. Self- love to urge, and reason to restrain.
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Who dare to love their country, and be poor.
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Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all the honor lies.
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Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.
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Envy will merit as its shade pursue, But like a shadow, proves the substance true.
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Fondly we think we honor merit then, when we but praise ourselves in other men.
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Never elated while one man's oppress'd Never dejected while another's blessed.
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Sleep and death, two twins of winged race, Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace.
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I lose my patience, and I own it too, When works are censur'd, not as bad but new While if our Elders break all reason's laws, These fools demand not pardon but Applause.
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Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!
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Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.
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Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves.
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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 'em all.
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Learn from the beasts the physic of the field.
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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.
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