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What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.

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
Weaves
Undone
Passion
Reason

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A little learning is a dangerous thing Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
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Who dare to love their country, and be poor.
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Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense weigh thy opinion against Providence.
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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
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The finest minds, like the finest metals, dissolve the easiest.
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Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my muse began, with who shall end.
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To observations which ourselves we make, we grow more partial for th' observer's sake.
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How Instinct varies in the grov'ling swine.
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He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.
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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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These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!
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And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.
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Whether the darken'd room to muse invite, Or whiten'd wall provoke the skew'r to write In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint, Like Lee or Budgel I will rhyme and print.
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When much dispute has past, we find our tenets just the same as last.
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Virtue alone is happiness below.
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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.
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
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In a sadly pleasing strain, let the warbling lute complain.
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Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.
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Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
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