Judging by parts, and not by the whole. A prudent Chief not always must display His Pow'rs in equal Ranks, and fair Array, But with th' Occasion and the Place comply, Conceal his Force, nay seem sometimes to Fly. Be thou the first true merit to befriend; His praise is lost who stays till all commend. With him, most authors steal their works, or buy; Garth did not write his own Dispensary. Its mundane subject—the true account of a squabble between two prominent Catholic families over the theft of a lock of hair—is transformed by Pope into a mock-heroic send-up of classical. As shades more sweetly recommend the light, So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit. .
When first young Maro in his boundless mind A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd, Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law, And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw: But when t' examine ev'ry part he came, Nature and Homer were, he found, the same. Some by old words to fame have made pretence, Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense; Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile. Poets, a Race long unconfin'd and free, Still fond and proud of Savage Liberty, Receiv'd his Laws, and stood convinc'd 'twas fit , shou'd preside o'er Wit. Some have at first for Wits, then Poets passd; Turnd Critics next, and provd plain Fools at last. Leave such to tune their own dull Rhimes, and know What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow; And praise the Easie Vigor of a Line, Where Strength, and 's Sweetness join. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main. Nations unborn your mighty Names shall sound, And Worlds applaud that must not yet be found! Meanly they seek the blessing to confine, And force that sun but on a part to shine, Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, But ripens spirits in cold northern climes; Which from the first has shone on ages past, Enligths the present, and shall warm the last; Tho' each may feel increases and decays, And see now clearer and now darker days, Regard not then if wit be old or new, But blame the False and value still the True.
Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such, Who still are pleas'd too little or too much. An rage on essay on environmental pollution rashtriya ekta essay wikipedia in hindi nepali, written in the year 1709. Part 2 Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. Of the Decay of Criticism, and its Revival.
This humble praise, lamented shade! In Essay on Imagination, Alexander Pope clothes the history principles such as good, and being. A prudent chief not always must display His powers in equal ranks and fair array, But with th occasion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly. Ask them the Cause; They're wiser still, they say; And still to Morrow's wiser than to Day. An Drag on Future is one of the first known statistics written by the Jewish writer Alexander Pope 16881744. Distrustful Sense with modest Caution speaks; It still looks home, and short Excursions makes; But ratling Nonsense in full Vollies breaks; And never shock'd, and never turn'd aside, Bursts out, resistless, with a thundering Tyde! Where-e'er you find the cooling Western Breeze, In the next Line, it whispers thro' the Trees; If Chrystal Streams with pleasing Murmurs creep, The Reader's threaten'd not in vain with Sleep.
Ah ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast, Nor in the critic let the man be lost! In search of wit these lose their common sense, And then turn critics in their own defence: Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write, Or with a rival's, or an eunuch's spite. At twelve, Pope composed his earliest extant work, Ode to Solitude; the same year saw the onset of the debilitating bone deformity that would plague Pope until the end of his life. Fear most to tax an honourable fool, Whose right it is, uncensured to be dull: Such without Wit, are poets when they please, As without Learning they can take degrees. Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent, as more suitable; A vile conceit in pompous words express'd, Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd: For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort, As several garbs with country, town, and court. Parties in wit attend on those of state, And public faction doubles private hate. Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Ducklane. Those oft are stratagems which errors seem, Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Of Licenses, and the use of 'em by the Ancients. What is this Wit which must our Cares employ? Expletive ---An expletive is a rude word or expression you use when you are annoyed or excited. But we, brave Britons, Foreign Laws despis'd, And kept unconquer'd and unciviliz'd, Fierce for the Liberties of Wit, and bold, We still defy'd the Romans as of old. Besides, this poem makes me understand that western poetry can also implies some truths and uses the limited meter at the same time, not only just to express the poets' emotion. In wit, as nature, what effects our hearts Is not th'exactness of peculiar parts; 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all. Leave dang'rous Truths to unsuccessful Satyrs, And Flattery to fulsome Dedicators, Whom, when they Praise, the World believes no more, Than when they promise to give Scribling o'er.
His high artifice, strict prosody, and, at times, the sheer cruelty of his satire were an object of derision for the poets of the nineteenth century, and it was not until the 1930s that his reputation was revived. Some, to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse, Want as much more to turn it to its use; For Wit and Judgment often are at strife Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife. No single Parts unequally surprize; All comes united to th' admiring Eyes; No monstrous Height, or Breadth, or Length appear; The Whole at once is Bold, and Regular. Conspire ---A group of people makes a secret agreement for illegal things. In Prospects, thus, some Objects please our Eyes, Which out of Nature's common Order rise, The shapeless Rock, or hanging Precipice. Fancy and art in gay Petronius please, The scholar's learning, with the courtier's ease. Envy will Merit as its Shade pursue, But like a Shadow, proves the Substance true; For envy'd Wit, like Sol Eclips'd, makes known Th' opposing Body's Grossness, not its own.
That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill and a more dangerous one to the public. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. In ev'ry Work regard the Writer's End, Since none can compass more than they Intend; And if the Means be just, the Conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial Faults, is due. He criticizes some poets who emphasize on sounds only and show his viewpoints of true writing. But most by numbers judge a poet's song; And smooth or rough, with them is right or wrong: In the bright Muse though thousand charms conspire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire, Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, And worlds applaud that must not yet be found! But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despised, And kept unconquer'd and uncivilized; Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold, We still defied the Romans, as of old. Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile; Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call, Their generation's so equivocal: To tell 'em, would a hundred tongues require, Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire. What is this Wit, which must our cares employ? Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say; And still tomorrow's wiser than today. Some beauties yet no precepts can declare, For there's a happiness as well as care. In ev'ry work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
When Ajax some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labors, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the' unbending corn, and skims along the main. Of old those met rewards who could excel, And such were prais'd who but endevour'd well; Tho' triumphs were to gen'rals only due, Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers too. These syllables are required equally long, though the ear often tired with the open vowels. Like kings we lose the conquests gain'd before, By vain ambition still to make them more; Each might his sev'ral province well command, Would all but stoop to what they understand. Horace still charms with graceful negligence, And without method talks us into sense; Will, like a friend, familiarly convey The truest notions in the easiest way.