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Such Were The Notes Thy Once Lov'd Poet Sung, Till Death Untimely Stopp'd His Tuneful Tongue.
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Such were the notes thy once lov'd poet sung,
Till death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
-- Epistle to Robert, Earl of Oxford
Related:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory?
O death! where is thy sting? -- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Dying Christian to his Soul...
Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Essay on Man, Epistle iv, Line 379...
SMILEY :d stick out your tongue
Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,-- His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies....
Odious! in woollen! 't would a saint provoke," Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Moral Essays, Epistle i, Line 246...
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 213...
She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or if she rules him, never shows she rules.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Moral Essays, Epistle ii, Line 261...
Destroy his fib or sophistry--in vain! The creature 's at his dirty work again.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, Prologue to the Satires, Line 91...
The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- Essay on Man, Epistle ii, Line 135...