* * * * *
_Poetry, a Rhapsody_.
So geographers, in Afric maps,
With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o'er unhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns.
* * * * *
WILLIAM CONGREVE.
1669-1729.
_The Mourning Bride_. Act i. Sc. 1.
Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
* * * * *
By magic numbers and persuasive sound.
Act iii. Sc. 1.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.
ALEXANDER POPE.
1688-1744.
ESSAY ON MAN.
Epistle i. Line 5.
Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man;
A mighty maze! but not without a plan.
Line 13.
Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.
Line 88.
A hero perish or a sparrow fall.
Line 95.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never _is_, but always _to be_ blest.
Line 99.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
Line 200.
Die of a rose in aromatic pain?
Line 294.
One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Epistle ii. Line 1.
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is man.
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