A
Character
of
Mr.
POPE'S
WRITINGS
.
BEING
An
Episode
from
the
Poem
call'd
SICKNESS
,
Book
II
.
By
the
Rev.
Mr.
THOMPSON
.
—
In
measur'd
time
(
So
heav'n
has
will'd
)
together
with
their
snows
,
The
everlasting
hills
shall
melt
away
:
This
solid
globe
dissolve
,
as
ductile
wax
Before
the
breath
of
Vulcan
;
like
a
scroll
Shrivel
th'
unfolded
curtains
of
the
sky
;
Thy
planets
,
NEWTON
,
tumble
from
their
spheres
;
The
moon
be
perish'd
from
her
bloody
orb
;
The
sun
himself
,
in
liquid
ruin
,
rush
And
deluge
with
destroying
flames
the
globe
—
Peace
then
,
my
soul
,
nor
grieve
that
POPE
is
dead
.
If
e'er
the
tuneful
spirit
,
sweetly
strong
,
Spontaneous
numbers
,
teeming
in
my
breast
,
Enkindle
;
O
,
at
that
exalting
name
,
Be
favourable
,
be
propitious
now
,
While
,
in
the
gratitude
of
praise
,
I
sing
The
works
and
wonders
of
this
man
divine
.
I
tremble
while
I
write
—
His
lisping
Muse
Surmounts
the
loftiest
efforts
of
my
age
.
What
wonder
?
when
an
infant
,
he
apply'd
The
loud
Translation
of
the
First
Book
of
Statius's
Thebais
.
Papinian
trumpet
to
his
lips
,
Fir'd
by
a
sacred
fury
,
and
inspir'd
With
all
the
god
,
in
sounding
numbers
sung
"
Fraternal
rage
,
and
guilty
Thebes'
alarms
.
"
Sure
at
his
birth
(
things
not
unknown
of
old
)
The
Graces
round
his
cradle
wove
the
dance
,
And
led
the
maze
of
harmony
:
the
Nine
Prophetick
of
his
future
honours
,
pour'd
Plenteous
,
upon
his
lips
,
Castalian
dews
;
And
Attick
bees
their
golden
store
distill'd
.
The
soul
of
HOMER
,
sliding
from
its
star
,
Where
,
radiant
,
over
the
poetick
world
It
rules
and
sheds
its
influence
,
for
joy
Shouted
,
and
bless'd
the
birth
:
the
sacred
choir
Of
poets
,
born
in
elder
,
better
times
,
Enraptur'd
catch'd
the
elevating
sound
,
And
roll'd
the
gladd'ning
news
from
sphere
to
sphere
.
Windsor
Forest
:
Mr.
POPE
born
there
.
Imperial
Windsor
!
raise
thy
brow
august
,
Superbly
gay
exalt
thy
tow'ry
head
;
And
bid
thy
forests
dance
,
and
nodding
,
wave
A
verdant
testimony
of
thy
joy
:
A
native
ORPHEUS
warbling
in
thy
shades
.
O
listen
to
Pastorals
.
ALEXIS'
tender
plaint
!
How
gently
rural
!
without
coarseness
plain
;
How
simple
in
his
elegance
of
grief
!
A
shepherd
,
but
no
clown
.
His
every
lay
Sweet
as
the
early
pipe
along
the
dale
,
When
hawthorns
bud
,
or
on
the
thymy
brow
When
all
the
mountains
bleat
,
and
vallies
sing
.
Soft
as
the
nightingale's
harmonious
woe
,
In
dewy
even-tide
,
when
cowslips
drop
Their
sleepy
heads
,
and
languish
in
the
breeze
.
Essay
on
Criticism
.
Next
in
the
critick-chair
survey
him
thron'd
,
Imperial
in
his
art
,
prescribing
laws
Clear
from
the
knitted
brow
,
and
squinted
sneer
;
Learn'd
without
pedantry
;
correctly
bold
,
And
regularly
easy
.
Gentle
,
now
,
As
rising
incense
,
or
descending
dews
,
The
variegated
echo
of
his
theme
:
Now
,
animated
flame
commands
the
soul
To
glow
with
sacred
wonder
.
Pointed
wit
And
keen
discernment
form
the
certain
page
.
Just
,
as
the
STAGYRITE
;
as
HORACE
,
free
;
As
FABIAN
,
clear
;
and
as
PETRONIUS
,
gay
.
Rape
of
the
Lock
.
But
whence
those
peals
of
laughter
shake
the
sides
Of
decent
mirth
?
Am
I
in
Fairy-land
?
Young
,
evanescent
forms
,
before
my
eyes
,
Or
skim
,
or
seen
to
skim
;
thin
essences
Of
fluid
light
;
zilphs
,
zilphids
,
elves
,
and
gnomes
;
Genii
of
Rosicruce
,
and
ladies'
gods
!
—
And
,
lo
,
in
shining
trails
BELINDA'S
hair
,
Bespangling
with
dishevell'd
beams
the
skies
,
Flames
o'er
the
night
.
Behind
,
a
satyr
grins
,
And
,
jocund
,
holds
a
glass
,
reflecting
,
fair
,
Hoops
,
crosses
,
mattadores
;
beaux
,
shocks
,
and
belles
,
Promiscuously
whimsical
and
gay
.
TASSONI
,
hiding
his
diminish'd
head
,
Droops
o'er
the
laughing
page
:
while
BOILEAU
skulks
,
With
blushes
cover'd
,
low
beneath
the
desk
.
More
OVID's
SAPPHO
to
PHAON
:
And
ELOISE
to
ABELARD
.
mournful
scenes
invite
.
The
milky
vein
Of
amorous
grief
devolves
its
placid
wave
Soft-streaming
o'er
the
soul
,
in
weeping
woe
And
tenderness
of
anguish
.
While
we
read
Th'
infectious
page
,
we
sicken
into
love
,
And
languish
with
involuntary
fires
.
The
Zephyr
,
panting
on
the
silken
buds
Of
breathing
violets
;
the
virgin's
sigh
,
Rosy
with
youth
,
are
turbulent
and
rude
,
To
SAPPHO'S
plaint
,
and
ELOÏSA'S
moan
.
Heav'ns
!
what
a
flood
of
empyréal
day
My
aking
eyes
involves
!
A
Temple
of
FAME
.
temple
soars
,
Rising
like
exhalations
on
a
mount
,
And
wide
its
adamantine
valves
expands
.
Three
monumental
columns
,
bright
in
air
,
Of
figur'd
gold
,
the
center
of
the
quire
With
lustre
fill
.
POPE
on
the
midmost
shines
Betwixt
his
HOMER
and
his
HORACE
plac'd
,
Superior
,
by
the
hand
of
Justice
.
FAME
,
With
all
her
mouths
,
th'
eternal
trumpet
swells
,
Exulting
at
his
name
;
and
,
grateful
,
pours
The
lofty
notes
of
never-dying
praise
,
Triumphant
,
floating
on
the
wings
of
wind
,
Sweet
o'er
the
world
:
th'
ambrosial
spirit
flies
Diffusive
,
in
its
progress
wid'ning
still
,
"
Dear
to
the
earth
,
and
grateful
to
the
sky
.
"
FAME
owes
him
more
than
e'er
she
can
repay
:
She
owes
her
very
temple
to
his
hands
;
Like
Ilium
built
;
by
hands
no
less
divine
!
Attention
,
rouze
thyself
!
the
master's
hand
,
(
The
master
of
our
souls
!
)
has
chang'd
the
key
,
And
bids
the
thunder
of
the
battle
roar
Tumultuous
Translation
of
HOMER
.
.
HOMER
,
HOMER
is
our
own
!
And
Grecian
heroes
flame
in
British
lines
.
What
pomp
of
words
!
what
nameless
energy
Kindles
the
verse
;
invigours
every
line
;
Astonishes
,
and
overwhelms
the
soul
In
transports
toss'd
!
when
fierce
ACHILLES
raves
,
And
flashes
,
like
a
comet
,
o'er
the
field
,
To
wither
armies
with
his
martial
frown
.
I
see
the
battle
rage
;
I
hear
the
wheels
Careering
with
their
brazen
orbs
!
The
shout
Of
nations
roll
(
the
labour
of
the
winds
)
Full
on
my
ear
,
and
shakes
my
inmost
soul
.
Description
never
cou'd
so
well
deceive
:
'Tis
real
!
TROY
is
here
,
or
I
at
TROY
Enjoy
the
war
.
My
spirits
,
all
on
fire
,
With
unextinguish'd
violence
are
borne
Above
the
world
,
and
mingle
with
the
gods
.
Olympus
rings
with
arms
!
the
firmament
,
Beneath
the
lightning
of
Minerva's
shield
,
Burns
to
the
center
:
rock
the
tow'rs
of
heav'n
,
All
nature
trembles
,
save
the
throne
of
JOVE
.
Ethick
Epistles
.
To
root
excesses
from
the
human
breast
;
Behold
a
beauteous
pile
of
Ethicks
rise
;
Sense
,
the
foundation
;
harmony
,
the
walls
;
(
The
Dorique
grave
,
and
gay
Corinthian
join'd
)
Where
SOCRATES
and
HORACE
jointly
reign
.
Best
of
philosophers
!
of
poets
too
The
best
!
he
teaches
thee
thy
self
to
know
:
That
virtue
is
the
noblest
gift
of
heav'n
:
"
And
vindicates
the
ways
of
GOD
to
man
.
"
O
hearken
to
the
moralist
polite
!
Enter
his
school
of
truth
:
where
PLATO'S
self
Might
preach
;
and
TULLY
deign
to
lend
an
ear
.
Dunciad
.
Last
see
him
waging
with
the
fools
of
rhyme
A
wanton
,
harmless
war
.
Dunce
after
dunce
;
Beaux
,
doctors
,
templars
,
courtiers
;
sophs
and
cits
,
Condemn'd
to
suffer
life
.
The
motley
crew
,
Emerging
from
oblivion's
muddy
pool
,
Give
the
round
face
to
view
;
and
shameless
front
Proudly
expose
;
till
laughter
have
her
fill
.
Born
to
improve
the
age
,
and
cheat
mankind
Into
the
road
of
honour
!
—
Vice
again
The
gilded
chariot
drives
:
—
For
he
is
dead
!
I
saw
the
sable
barge
,
along
his
Thames
,
In
slow
solemnity
beating
the
tide
,
Convey
his
sacred
dust
!
—
Its
swains
expir'd
;
Wither'd
,
in
Twit'nam
bow'rs
,
the
laurel-bough
;
Silent
,
the
Muses
broke
their
idle
lyres
:
Th'
attendant
Graces
check'd
the
sprightly
dance
,
Their
arms
unlock'd
,
and
catch'd
the
starting
tear
:
And
Virtue
for
her
lost
defender
mourn'd
!