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In adamantine chains shall Death be bound, And Hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.

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
Future
Tyrants
Death
Bound
Feel
Chains
Feels
Wounds
Bounds
Adamantine
Eternal
Tyrant
Hell
Grim
Shall
Wound

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Thus God and nature linked the gen'ral frame, And bade self-love and social be the same.
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Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.
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Chaos of thought and passion, all confused Still by himself abused or disabused Created half to rise, and half to fall Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,- The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.
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O peace! how many wars were waged in thy name.
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Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
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Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?
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The doubtful beam long nods from side to side.
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A field of glory is a field for all.
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Who know but He, whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms, Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind.
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I have more zeal than wit.
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But touch me, and no minister so sore. Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme, Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, And the sad burthen of some merry song.
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Ye gods, annihilate but space and time, And make two lovers happy.
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To observations which ourselves we make, we grow more partial for th' observer's sake.
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The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails.
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Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.
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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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The learned is happy, nature to explore The fool is happy, that he knows no more.
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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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Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
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The world is a thing we must of necessity either laugh at or be angry at if we laugh at it, they say we are proud if we are angry at it, they say we are ill-natured.
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