Quotes
Quotes - Pope
Lotus, the name; divine, nectareous juice!
Respect us human, and relieve us poor.
Rare gift! but oh what gift to fools avails!
Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.
No more was seen the human form divine.
And not a man appears to tell their fate.
Let him, oraculous, the end, the way,
The turns of all thy future fate display.
Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl.
Thin airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
Heav'd on Olympus tott'ring Ossa stood;
On Ossa, Pelion nods with all his wood.
The first in glory, as the first in place.
Soft as some song divine thy story flows.
Oh woman, woman! when to ill thy mind
Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend.
What mighty woes
To thy imperial race from woman rose!
But sure the eye of time beholds no name
So blest as thine in all the rolls of fame.
And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves.
Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone.
There in the bright assemblies of the skies.
Gloomy as night he stands.
All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.
He ceas'd; but left so pleasing on their ear
His voice, that list'ning still they seem'd to hear.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind,
The last and hardest conquest of the mind.
