Sir, I admit your general rule,

"Sir, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool.
But you yourself may serve to show it,
Every fool is not a poet."

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

The Universal Prayer. Deo Opt. Max.

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

To Mr. Thomas Southern, On His Birth Day

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

On His Grotto At Twickenham, Composed Of Marbles, Spars, Gems, Ores, And Minerals.

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

Occasioned By Some Verses Of His Grace The Duke Of Buckingham.

Alexander Pope, Simple Poetry

English

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Epigram - Yes, Every Poet Is A Fool

Yes, every poet is a fool;
By demonstration, Ned can show it:
Happy could Ned's inverted rule
Prove every fool to be a poet.

Matthew Prior

Epilogue[177] To The Satires. In Two Dialogues.

(WRITTEN IN MDCCXXXVIII.)


DIALOGUE I.

Fr. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print,
And when it comes, the court see nothing in 't.
You grow correct, that once with rapture writ,
And are, besides, too moral for a wit.
Decay of parts, alas! we all must feel--
Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal?
'Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye
Said, 'Tories call'd him Whig, and Whigs a Tory;'
And taught his Romans, in much better metre,
'To laugh at fools who put their trust in Peter.'

But, Horace, sir, was delicate, was nice;
Bubo^[178] observes, he lash'd no sort of vice:
Horace would say, Sir Billy^[179] served the crown,
Blunt could do business, Huggins^[180] knew the town;
In Sappho touch the fail...

Alexander Pope

Preface

    "Let such teach others, who themselves excel,
    And censure freely who have written well."

Alexander Pope

Prologue To 'The Three Hours After Marriage'

Authors are judged by strange capricious rules;
The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools:
Yet sure the best are most severely fated;
For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated.
Blockheads with reason men of sense abhor;
But fool 'gainst fool, is barbarous civil war.
Why on all authors, then, should critics fall?
Since some have writ, and shown no wit at all.
Condemn a play of theirs, and they evade it;
Cry, 'Damn not us, but damn the French, who made it.'
By running goods these graceless owlers gain;
Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of Spain;
But wit, like wine, from happier climates brought,
Dash'd by these rogues, turns English common draught.
They pall Molière's and Lopez' sprightly strain,
And teach dull harlequins to grin in vain.
...

Alexander Pope

Imitations Of English Poets. Earl Of Rochester: On Silence.

1 Silence! coeval with eternity;
Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be,
'Twas one vast Nothing all, and all slept fast in thee.

2 Thine was the sway, ere heaven was form'd, or earth,
Ere fruitful Thought conceived Creation's birth,
Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.

3 Then various elements against thee join'd,
In one more various animal combined,
And framed the clamorous race of busy humankind.

4 The tongue moved gently first, and speech was low,
Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show,
And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.

5 But rebel Wit deserts thee oft in vain;
Lost in the maze of words he turns again,
And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign.

6 Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set fr...

Alexander Pope

Fragment Inscribed To The Right Hon. C.J. Fox.

    How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite;
    How virtue and vice blend their black and their white;
    How genius, th' illustrious father of fiction,
    Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction,
    I sing: if these mortals, the critics, should bustle,
    I care not, not I, let the critics go whistle!

    But now for a patron, whose name and whose glory
    At once may illustrate and honour my story.

    Thou first of our orators, first of our wits;
    Yet whose parts and acquirements seem mere lucky hits;
    With knowledge so vast, and with judgment so strong,
    No man with the half of 'em e'er went far wrong;
    With passions so potent, and fancies so bright,
    No man with the half of 'em e'er went quite right;
    A sorry, poor mis...

Robert Burns