Date: 1715-1720
"But wasting Cares lay heavy on his Mind"
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1715-1720
"A brave Mind however blinded with Passion is sensible of Remorse as soon as the injur'd Object presents itself; and Paris never behaves himself ill in War, but when his Spirits are depress'd by the Consciousness of an Injustice."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1715-1720
"Pensive he sate; for all that Fate design'd, /Rose in sad Prospect to his boding Mind. / Thus to his Soul he said."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1715-1720
"The Soul, in which the Mind was lodg'd, was suppos'd exactly to resemble the Body in Shape, Magnitude, and Features; for this being in the Body as the Statue in its Mold, so soon as it goes forth is properly the Image of that Body in which it was enclos'd."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1715-1720
"He weighs everything in the balance of Reason; he sets before himself the Baseness of Flight, and the Courage of his Enemy, till at last the thirst of Glory preponderates all other Considerations."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1715-1720
"This strong and ruling Faculty was like a powerful Planet, which in the Violence of its Course, drew all things within its Vortex."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1733
"I love to pour out all myself, as plain / As downright Shippen, or as old Montagne. / In them, as certain to be lov'd as seen, / The Soul stood forth, nor kept a Thought within; / In me what Spots (for Spots I have) appear, / Will prove at least the Medium must be clear."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: w. 1737, published 1738
"A Voice there is, that whispers in my ear, / ('Tis Reason's voice, which sometimes one can hear)."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: w. 1737, published 1738
"Long, as to him who works for debt, the Day; / Long as the Night to her whose love's away; / Long as the Year's dull circle seems to run, / When the brisk Minor pants for twenty-one; / So slow th' unprofitable Moments roll, / That lock up all the Functions of my soul; / That keep me from Myself;...
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)