Poems List

’Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.

An Essay on Criticism [1711], pt. I, l. 9

2

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 flow’rs shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

Pastorals [1704]. Summer, l. 73

3

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.

Ode on Solitude, st. 5

4

Happy the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground.

Ode on Solitude [c. 1700], st. 1

4
Pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
3

Winter - The Fourth Pastoral, or Daphne

Winter - The Fourth Pastoral, or Daphne

Lycidas.
Thyrsis, the music of that murm'ring spring,
Is not so mournful as the strains you sing.
Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below,
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,
The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
Wile silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!


Thyrsis.
Behold the groves that shine with silver frost,
Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost.
Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
That call'd the list'ning Dryads to the plain?
Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along,
And bade his willows learn the moving song.


Lycidas.
So may kind rains their vital moisture yield,
And swell the future harvest of the field.
Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
And said; 'Ye shepherds, sing around my grave!
Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn,
And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.'


Thyrsis.
Ye gentle Muses, leave your crystal spring,
Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring;
Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,
And break your vows, as when Adonis died;
And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone:
'Let nature change, let heav'n and earth deplore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more!'
'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay,
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day!
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie,
With her they flourish'd, and with her they die.
Ah what avail the beauties nature wore?
Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!
For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
Nor thirsty heifers seek the gliding flood.
The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
In notes more sad than when they sing their own;
In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies,
Silent, or only to her name replies;
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!
No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies,



Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise;
No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield.
The balmy Zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath;
Th' industrious bees neglect their golden store;
Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more!
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
Shall list'ning in mid air suspend their wings;
No more the birds shall imitate her lays,
Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays;
No more the streams their murmur shall forbear,
A sweeter music than their own to hear,
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more!
Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;
The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears
Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears;
The winds and trees and floods her death deplore,
Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more!
But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high
Above the clouds, above the starry sky!
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!
There while you rest in Amaranthine bow'rs,
Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs,
Behold us kindly, who your name implore,
Daphne, our Goddess, and our grief no more!


Lycidas.
How all things listen, while thy Muse complains!
Such silence waits on Philomela's strains,
In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring breeze
Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.
To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed,
If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed.
While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give,
Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live!


Thyrsis.
But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews,
Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must Time obey.
Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams and groves,
Adieu, ye shepherd's rural lays and loves;
Adieu, my flocks, farewell ye sylvan crew,
Daphne, farewell, and all the world adieu!
430

Verses Left by Mr. Pope

Verses Left by Mr. Pope

With no poetic ardour fir'd
I press the bed where Wilmot lay;
That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,
Begets no numbers grave or gay.


Beneath thy roof, Argyle, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof - the sky.


Such flames as high in patriots burn,
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife;
And such as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.
346

Weeping

Weeping


While Celia's Tears make sorrow bright,
Proud Grief sits swelling in her eyes;
The Sun, next those the fairest light,
Thus from the Ocean first did rise:
And thus thro' Mists we see the Sun,
Which else we durst not gaze upon.


These silver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day:
So from one Cloud soft show'rs we view,
And blasting lightnings burst away.
The Stars that fall from Celia's eye
Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.


The Baby in that sunny Sphere
So like a Phaeton appears,
That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to spare,
Thought fit to drown him in her tears;
Else might th' ambitious Nymph aspire,
To set, like him, Heav'n too on fire.
371

Universal Prayer

Universal Prayer

Father of all! In every age,
In ev'ry clime ador'd,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confin'd

To know but this, that Thou art good,
And that myself am blind:

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;

And, binding Nature fast in Fate,
Left free the human Will.

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.

What blessings thy free bounty gives
Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives;
T' enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,

Or think thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round.

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,

And teach damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;

If I am wrong, O teach my heart
To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish Pride
Or impious Discontent,

At aught thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught that goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,
To right the fault I see:

That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.

Mean tho' I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken'd by thy breath;


O lead me whereso'er I go,
Thro' this day's life or death!

This day be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun
Though know'st if best bestow'd or not,
And let Thy will be done.

To Thee, whose temple is of Space,
Whose altar earth, sea, skies,
One chorus let all Beings raise!
All Nature's incense rise!
419

Translation of a Prayer of Brutus

Translation of a Prayer of Brutus

Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase,
To mountain wolves and all the savage race,
Wide o'er the aerial vault extend thy sway,
And o'er the infernal regions void of day.
On thy third reign look down; disclose our fate,
In what new station shall we fix our seat?
When shall we next thy hallow'd altars raise,
And choirs of virgins celebrate thy praise?
344

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Identification and basic context

Alexander Pope was an English poet, best known for his satirical verse and his translations of Homer. He is considered one of the greatest English poets of the 18th century and a leading figure of the Augustan age. He wrote primarily in English and was a prominent advocate for Neoclassicism in literature.

Childhood and education

Born into a devout Roman Catholic family, Pope faced significant social and political disadvantages due to the Penal Laws against Catholics in England. He received a strong classical education from tutors and through extensive self-study, developing a profound knowledge of ancient Greek and Latin literature. His frail health, particularly a severe spinal condition that stunted his growth, also shaped his life and perhaps his literary focus.

Literary trajectory

Pope's literary career began in his early teens with poems like "Ode to Solitude." His "Pastorals" (1709) and "An Essay on Criticism" (1711) quickly established his reputation. The publication of "The Rape of the Lock" (1712-1714) cemented his fame as a master satirist. His ambitious translation of Homer's "Iliad" (1715–1720) and "Odyssey" (1725–1726) brought him financial independence and further enhanced his status. He continued to produce significant works, including "The Dunciad" (1728–1743) and his "Ethical Epistles" (1731–1744), which included the influential "An Essay on Man."

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Pope's major works include "The Rape of the Lock," "An Essay on Criticism," "The Dunciad," and "An Essay on Man." His dominant themes included satire of human folly and vice, the nature of man and society, morality, and the importance of reason and order. He is celebrated for his mastery of the heroic couplet, a pair of rhyming iambic pentameter lines, which he used with unparalleled precision, economy, and wit. His style is characterized by its clarity, elegance, balance, and epigrammatic force. His poetic voice is often witty, ironic, and didactic. Pope's language is highly polished and controlled, employing a rich vocabulary and carefully crafted imagery. He innovated in the use of satire to explore philosophical and moral issues, elevating the form beyond mere lampoonery.

Cultural and historical context

Pope lived during the Augustan age in England, a period characterized by a renewed interest in classical learning and a focus on reason, order, and social harmony. He was part of a literary circle that included Jonathan Swift and John Gay. His Catholic faith placed him outside the mainstream of English society, influencing his perspective on power and corruption. The political landscape of Whig vs. Tory politics and the burgeoning Enlightenment ideals deeply informed his work.

Personal life

Pope maintained close friendships with many leading literary figures of his day, including Jonathan Swift. His personal life was marked by his relationship with Martha Blount, a lifelong companion. His Catholicism and physical frailty likely contributed to a sense of being an outsider, which he channeled into his sharp social commentary. He was known for his strong opinions and his willingness to engage in literary feuds, most notably in "The Dunciad."

Recognition and reception

Pope was a literary celebrity in his own time, widely admired for his genius and his command of language. His translations of Homer were bestsellers. While his work was generally highly regarded, "The Dunciad" also generated controversy due to its personal attacks on rival poets. Posthumously, his reputation as a master stylist and satirist has endured, though critical interpretations have evolved.

Influences and legacy

Pope was deeply influenced by classical poets such as Horace, Virgil, and Homer, as well as by English Renaissance writers like John Dryden. He, in turn, profoundly influenced subsequent generations of poets, particularly in his use of the heroic couplet and his development of satire as a serious literary form. His polished style and intellectual depth set a standard for English poetry that lasted for decades.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Pope's work has been analyzed for its complex engagement with Enlightenment thought, its social and political critiques, and its formal perfection. Debates have often centered on the sincerity of his moral pronouncements versus the perceived cruelty of his satire, and the tension between individual genius and the Augustan emphasis on order.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Pope's villa at Twickenham, which he designed himself, was famous for its grotto and its meticulously planned gardens. He was known for his sharp intellect and his ability to hold his own in intellectual debates despite his physical limitations. His rivalry with Lewis Theobald, the initial target of "The Dunciad," is a notable aspect of his literary career.

Death and memory

Alexander Pope died in 1744. His works have been continuously published and studied, securing his place as a central figure in English literature and a master of poetic form and wit.