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No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n But such plain roofs as Piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise.

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
Ill
Maker
Raise
Piety
Rage
Vocal
Saint
Saints
Raises
Roof
Requited
Praise
Makers
Heav
Dying
Plain
Roofs
Silver
Misers

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see All discord, harmony not understood All partial evil, universal good.
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A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
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Of darkness visible so much be lent, as half to show, half veil, the deep intent.
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The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
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To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.
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At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.
Alexander Pope
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No one should be ashamed to admit they are wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that they are wiser today than they were yesterday.
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Mark what unvary'd laws preserve each state, Laws wise as Nature, and as fixed as Fate.
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There is a majesty in simplicity.
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Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate, Born where Heav'n influence scarce can penetrate. In life's low vale, the soil the virtues like, They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
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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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Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Alexander Pope
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It often happens that those are the best people whose characters have been most injured by slanderers: as we usually find that to be the sweetest fruit which the birds have been picking at.
Alexander Pope
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart
Alexander Pope
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Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Alexander Pope
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All seems infected that th' infected spy, As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.
Alexander Pope
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And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.
Alexander Pope
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Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, of straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.
Alexander Pope
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Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content, And the gay Conscience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace, Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.
Alexander Pope
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Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are fluttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go. O never fear, lads, naught's to dread, Look not to left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night.
Alexander Pope