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Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.

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
Ends
Gains
Statesmen
Truth
Private
Title
Soul
Friendship
Honour
Promise
Titles
Friend
Sincere
Clear
Faithful
Lost
Gain
Statesmanship
Action
Broke
Statesman

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Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.
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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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Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.
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The most positive men are the most credulous.
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How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
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Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.
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The heart resolves this matter in a trice, Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.
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Coffee which makes the politician wise, and see through all things with his half-shut eyes.
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Old politicians chew on wisdom past, And totter on in business to the last.
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In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend.
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True friendship's laws are by this rule express'd, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
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Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes And when in act they cease, in prospect rise.
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For what I have publish'd, I can only hope to be pardon'd but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais'd.
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Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from every thorn.
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
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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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To dazzle let the vain design, To raise the thought and touch the heart, be thine!
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True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd Something whose truth convinced at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind. As shades more sweetly recommend the light, So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
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A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
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Is not absence death to those who love?
Alexander Pope