Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than Hell to shun,
That, more than Heaven pursue.
How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns; Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds
All this dread order break- for whom? for thee?
Vile worm!- oh madness! pride! impiety!
Mots clés pride
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.
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, 'Whatever is, is right.
Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
Mots clés humility
This long disease, my life.
Alexander PopeThe hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
Alexander PopeMots clés expediency justice-without-mercy
The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712)
-Vital spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Stanza 1.
True wit is nature to advantage dressed;
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.
Mots clés writing nature expression thought wit expressing chops
« ; premier précédent
Page 8 de 12.
suivant dernier » ;
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.