On Drawings Of The Statues Of Apollo, Venus, And Hercules, Made For Pope By Sir Godfrey Kneller.

What god, what genius did the pencil move,
When Kneller painted these?
'Twas friendship, warm as Phoebus, kind as Love,
And strong as Hercules.

Alexander Pope

Alexander Pope was an English poet, best known for his satirical verse, including 'The Rape of the Lock' and 'The Dunciad'. He is the second-most frequently quoted writer in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations after Shakespeare. Pope was one of the greatest English poets and the foremost poet of the early 18th century. He also translated Homer. Despite suffering from numerous health problems, Pope made a significant impact on English literature and is remembered for his sharp wit and mastery of the heroic couplet.

Alexander Pope

In Imitation Of Spenser : The Alley

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

Preface

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

Phyrne

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

Sylvia, A Fragment.

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

English

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Epitaph VIII. On Sir Godfrey Kneller, In Westminster Abbey, 1723.

Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master, taught,
Whose art was Nature, and whose pictures Thought;
Now for two ages having snatch'd from Fate
Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great,
Lies crown'd with princes' honours, poets' lays,
Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.

Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie
Her works; and, dying, fears herself may die.

Alexander Pope

Epistle To Mr Jervas, With Mr Dryden's Translation Of Fresnoy's 'Art Of Painting.'

This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse
This from no venal or ungrateful Muse.
Whether thy hand strike out some free design,
Where life awakes, and dawns at every line;
Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mass,
And from the canvas call the mimic face:
Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire
Fresnoy's close art, and Dryden's native fire:
And, reading, wish like theirs our fate and fame,
So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our name;
Like them to shine through long succeeding age,
So just thy skill, so regular my rage.

Smit with the love of sister-arts we came,
And met congenial, mingling flame with flame;
Like friendly colours found them both unite,
And each from each contract new strength and light.
How oft in pleasing tasks we wear ...

Alexander Pope

Extemporaneous Lines On A Portrait Of Lady Mary Wortley Montague, Painted By Kneller.

The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth,
That happy air of majesty and truth,
So would I draw: but, oh! 'tis vain to try,
My narrow genius does the power deny;
The equal lustre of the heavenly mind,
Where every grace with every virtue's join'd:
Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe,
With greatness easy, and with wit sincere;
With just description show the soul divine,
And the whole princess in my work should shine.

Alexander Pope

Moral Essays. Epistle V. To Mr Addison.

OCCASIONED BY HIS DIALOGUES ON MEDALS.^[54]

See the wild waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very tombs now vanish'd, like their dead!
Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil'd
Where mix'd with slaves the groaning martyr toil'd:
Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods,
Now drain'd a distant country of her floods:
Fanes, which admiring gods with pride survey,
Statues of men, scarce less alive than they!
Some felt the silent stroke of mouldering age,
Some hostile fury, some religious rage,
Barbarian blindness, Christian zeal conspire,
And Papal piety, and Gothic fire.
Perhaps, by its own ruins saved from flame,
Some buried marble half-preserves a name;
That na...

Alexander Pope

To Sir Godfrey Kneller, Principal Painter To His Majesty.[1]

    Once I beheld the fairest of her kind,
    And still the sweet idea charms my mind:
    True, she was dumb; for Nature gazed so long,
    Pleased with her work, that she forgot her tongue;
    But, smiling, said, She still shall gain the prize;
    I only have transferr'd it to her eyes.
    Such are thy pictures, Kneller: such thy skill,
    That Nature seems obedient to thy will;
    Comes out and meets thy pencil in the draught;
    Lives there, and wants but words to speak her thought.
    At least thy pictures look a voice; and we
    Imagine sounds, deceived to that degree,
    We think 'tis somewhat more than just to see.

        Shadows are but privations of the light;
    Yet, when we walk, they shoot before the sight;
    With us approach, retir...

John Dryden

Epistles To Several Persons: Epistle Iv, To Richard Boyle,

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures:
Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe jocoso,
Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque Poetae,
Interdum urbani, parcentis viribus, atque
Extenuantis eas consulto.
(Horace, Satires, I, x, 17-22)
'Tis strange, the miser should his cares employ
To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy:
Is it less strange, the prodigal should waste
His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats;
Artists must choose his pictures, music, meats:
He buys for Topham, drawings and designs,
For Pembroke, statues, dirty gods, and coins;
Rare monkish manuscripts for Hearne alone,
And books for Mead, and butterflies for Sloane.
Think we all these are for him...

Alexander Pope