PART 1 …
Alexander Pope
Of all the causes which conspire to blind …
Learn then what morals critics ought to show, …
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things …
I. …
What beck'ning ghost, along the moon-light shade …
In these deep solitudes and awful cells, …
Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigu'd, I said, …
As some fond virgin, whom her mother’s care …
Nothing so true as what you once let fall, …
'Tis strange, the miser should his cares employ …
While you, great patron of mankind, sustain …
In vain you boast poetic names of yore, …
Happy the man, whose wish and care …
What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, …
Not with more glories, in th' etherial plain, …
Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs, …
But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppress'd, …
She said: the pitying audience melt in tears, …
Father of all! in every age, …
You know where you did despise …