[Eloisa to Abelard continued.

See my lips tremble and my eyeballs roll; Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul. Line 323.

He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
Line ult.

Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confus'd,
Where order in variety we see,

And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Windsor Forest. Line 13.

A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.

Ibid. Line 62.

From old Belerium to the northern main.

Ibid. Line 316.

Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at all.
The Temple of Fame. Line 513.

Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown;
O grant an honest fame, or grant me none !

Ibid. Lin. ult.

I am his Highness's dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

On the Collar of a Dog.

There, take, (says Justice,) take ye each a shell; We thrive at Westminster on fools like you; "T was a fat oyster- live in peace adieu.1

Verbatim from Boileau.

1 "Tenez voilà," dit-elle, "à chacun une écaille,

Des sottises d'autrui nous vivons au Palais; Messieurs, l'huître étoit bonne. Adieu. Vivez en paix.” Epitre, ii. (à M. L'Abbé des Roches.)

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

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

To hide the fault I see ;

That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.1

Vital spark of heavenly flame!

Quit, O quit this mortal frame!

Stanza 10.

The Dying Christian to his Soul.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,

Sister Spirit, come away!

Ibid.

Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

Ibid.

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!

O grave! where is thy victory?

O death! where is thy sting?

Ibid.

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.

1 Cf. Spenser, The Faerie Queene, Book iv. C. i. St. 42.

What beckoning ghost along the moonlight shade Invites my steps and points to yonder glade?1

To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Line 1. By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd. Ibid. Line 51.

And bear about the mockery of woe

To midnight dances, and the public show.

Ibid. Line 57.

How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not,
To whom related, or by whom begot;
A heap of dust alone remains of thee;
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Ibid. Line 71.

Such were the notes thy once lov'd poet sung,
Till death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
Epist. to Robert, Earl of Oxford.
Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide,
Or gave his father grief but when he died.

Epitaph on the Hon. S. Harcourt.

The saint sustain'd it, but the woman died.

Epitaph on Mrs. Corbet.

Of manners gentle, of affections mild;

In wit a man, simplicity a child.2

Epitaph on Gay.

1 What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew, Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew?

Ben Jonson, Elegy on the Lady Jane Pawlet 2 Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. Dryden, Elegy on Mrs. Kiliegrew.

A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
And greatly falling with a falling state.

While Cato gives his little senate laws,
What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
Prologue to Mr. Addison's Cato.

The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole
Can never be a mouse of any soul.1

The Wife of Bath. Her Prologue. Line z98.

Love seldom haunts the breast where learning

lies,

And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.

Ibid. Line 369.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come; Knock as you please, there's nobody at home." Epigram.

Party is the madness of many for the gain of Thoughts on Various Subjects.

a few.3

I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.

Ibid.

1 I hold a mouse's hert not worth a leek, That hath but oon hole to sterte to. Chaucer, The Prologue of The Wyfe of Bathe, V. 572. 2 Cf. Cowper, p. 367.

8 From Roscoe's edition of Pope, Vol. v. p. 376; originally printed in Motte's Miscellanies, 1727. In the edition of 1736, Pope says, "I must own that the prose part (The Thoughts on Various Subjects), at the end of the second volume, was wholly mine. January, 1734.”

13*

ILIAD.

Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!

Book i. Line I.

The distant Trojans never injured me.

Book i. Line 200.

Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod; The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god. Book i. Line 684.

She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen.

Book iii. Line 208.

Not two strong men the enormous weight could

raise;

Such men as live in these degenerate days.

Book v. Line 371.

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground: Another race the following spring supplies;

They fall successive, and successive rise.

Book vi. Line 181.

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell. Book ix. Line 412.

A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows. Book ix. Line 725.