Category Archives: Alexander Pope (21 May 1688 – 30 May 1744 / London / England)

Pope was an 18th-century English poet, best known for his satirical verse and for his translation of Homer. He is the third-most frequently quoted writer in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, after Shakespeare and Tennyson. Pope’s use of the heroic couplet is famous.

Poem – Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer … Continue reading

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Poem – Sound & Sense 

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,  As those move easiest who have learned to dance.  ‘Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,  The sound must seem an echo to the sense:  Soft is the strain when Zephyr … Continue reading

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Poem  – Ode on Solitude

Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose heards with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer … Continue reading

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Poem – Chorus of Youths and Virgins

Semichorus. Oh Tyrant Love! hast thou possest The prudent, learn’d, and virtuous breast? Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim, And Arts but soften us to feel thy flame. Love, soft intruder, enters here, But ent’ring learns to be sincere. Marcus … Continue reading

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Poem – Chorus Of Athenians

Strophe I. Ye shades, where sacred truth is sought; Groves, where immortal Sages taught; Where heav’nly visions of Plato fir’d, And Epicurus lay inspir’d! In vain your guiltless laurels stood Unspotted long with human blood. War, horrid war, your thoughtful … Continue reading

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Poem – Verses Left My 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 … Continue reading

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Poem – Macer: A Character 

When simple Macer, now of high renown, First fought a Poet’s Fortune in the Town, ‘Twas all th’ Ambition his high soul could feel, To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steele. Some Ends of verse his Betters might … Continue reading

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