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English poet and critic
(1688 - 1744)
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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!
      - Moral Essays--Epistle to Addison [Rome]

Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
  And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
    A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd,
      And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
      - Moral Essays--Epistle to Addison (l. 27)

And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
      - Moral Essays--Epistle to Addison (l. 30)

Oh, when shall Britain, conscious of her claim,
  Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame?
    In living medals see her wars enroll'd,
      And vanquished realms supply recording gild?
      - Moral Essays--Epistle to Addison (l. 53)

Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
  In action faithful, and in honour clear;
    Who broke no promise, served no private end,
      Who gained no title, and who lost no friend,
        Ennobled by himself, by all approved,
          And praised, unenvied, by the Muse he loved.
      - Moral Essays--To Hamilton
         (epistle V, l. 67)
        [Epitaphs : Statesmanship]

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
  Thus unlamented let me die;
    Steal from the world, and not a stone
      Tell where I lie.
      - Ode on Solitude [Obscurity]

By music minds an equal temper know,
  Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
    . . . .
      Warriors she fires with animated sounds.
        Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds.
      - Ode on St. Cecilia's Day [Music]

By the streams that ever flow,
  By the fragrant winds that blow
    O'er the Elysian flow'rs;
      By those happy souls who dwell
        In yellow mead of asphodel.
      - Ode on St. Cecilia's Day [Asphodels]

Hark! the numbers soft and clear,
  Gently steal upon the ear;
    Now louder, and yet louder rise
      And fill with spreading sounds the skies.
      - Ode on St. Cecilia's Day [Music]

In a sadly pleasing strain
  Let the warbling lute complain.
      - Ode on St. Cecilia's Day [Music]

But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
  Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
    Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
      Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
      - Ode to Winter (l. 85) [Winter]

Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride!
  They had no poet, and they died.
      - Odes of Horace (bk. IV, ode 9) [Poets]

There is nothing that is meritorious but virtue and friendship; and indeed friendship itself is only a part of virtue.
      - On his Death-Bed,
        Johnson's "Lives of Poets; Life of Pope"
        [Friendship : Virtue]

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.
      - On his Grotto at Twickenham
        [Love of Country]

For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
      - Pastorals--Autumn (l. 26) [Lilies]

Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the spring,
  Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
    Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove,
      Say, is not absence death to those who love?
      - Pastorals--Autumn (l. 27) [Absence : Autumn]

. . . th' approach of night
  The skies yet blushing with departing light,
    When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
      And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
      - Pastorals--Autumn (l. 98) [Twilight]

Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night,
  The skies yet blushing with departing light,
    When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
      And the low sun had lengthened every shade.
      - Pastorals--Autumn (last lines) [Autumn]

Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
  With joyous musick wake the dawning day.
      - Pastorals--Spring (l. 23) [Birds]

But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
  The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
    To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
      Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
      - Pastorals--Summer [Summer]

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
  Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
    Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise,
      And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
      - Pastorals--Summer [Summer]

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
  Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
      - Pastorals--Winter (l. 53) [Larks]

A brave man struggling in the storms of fate.
      - Prologue to Addison's Cato [Fate]

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
  To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
    To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
      Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold--
        For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.
      - Prologue to Addison's Cato (l. 1) [Acting]

Your scene precariously subsists too long,
  On French translation and Italian song.
    Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage;
      Be justly warm'd with your own native rage.
      - Prologue to Addison's Cato (l. 42)

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