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No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.

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
Shall
Mounting
Suspend
Larks
Sings
List
Lists
Wings
Ning
Air
Daphne

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No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.
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O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes.
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Men must be taught as if you taught them not, and things unknown proposed as things forgot.
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The Right Divine of Kings to govern wrong.
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So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
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A good-natured man has the whole world to be happy out of.
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But see how oft ambition's aims are cross'd, and chiefs contend 'til all the prize is lost!
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Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
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Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.
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Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
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How index-learning turns no student pale, Yet holds the eel of science by the tail!
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From Nature's chain whatever link you strike, Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.
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Those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
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Trade it may help, society extend, But lures the Pirate, ant corrupts the friend: It raises armies in a nation's aid, But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.
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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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Tis from high Life high Characters are drawn A Saint in Crape is twice a Saint in Lawn: A Judge is just, a Chanc'llor juster still A Gownman learn'd a Bishop what you will Wise if a minister but if a King, More wise, more learn'd, more just, more ev'rything.
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And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
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But Satan now is wiser than of yore, and tempts by making rich, not making poor.
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For he lives twice who can at once employ, The present well, and e'en the past enjoy.
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Of little use, the man you may suppose, Who says in verse what others say in prose Yet let me show a poet's of some weight, And (though no soldier) useful to the state, What will a child learn sooner than a song? What better teach a foreigner the tongue? What's long or short, each accent where to place And speak in public with some sort of grace?
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