Alexander Pope
Alexander Pope
from An Essay on Criticism
‘Tis with our judgments as our watches; none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well.
Music resembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces which no methods
teach.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Trust not yourself: but your defects to know,
Make use of every friend―and every foe.
A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us up again.
‘Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all.
True wit is Nature to advantage dressed,
What oft was thought, but ne’er so well
expressed.
As shades more sweetly recommend the
light,
So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
Words are like leaves; and where they most
abound,
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the
best
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
Be not the first by whom the new are tired,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow;
Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.
Good nature and good sense must ever join;
To err is human, to forgive divine.
from An Essay on Criticism
‘Tis with our judgments as our watches; none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well.
Music resembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces which no methods
teach.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Trust not yourself: but your defects to know,
Make use of every friend―and every foe.
A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us up again.
‘Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all.
True wit is Nature to advantage dressed,
What oft was thought, but ne’er so well
expressed.
As shades more sweetly recommend the
light,
So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
Words are like leaves; and where they most
abound,
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.
Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the
best
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
Be not the first by whom the new are tired,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow;
Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.
Good nature and good sense must ever join;
To err is human, to forgive divine.