An Essay on Criticism

"Ten Censure wrong for one who Writes amiss."

"'Tis with our judgements 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."

"Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools."

"Nature to all things fix'd the Limits fit, And wisely curb'd proud Man's pretending Wit: As on the Land while here the Ocean gains, In other Parts it leaves wide sandy Plains; Thus in the Soul while Memory prevails, The solid Pow'r of Understanding fails; Where Beams of warm Imagination play, The Memory's soft Figures melt away."

"One science only will one genius fit: So vast is art, so narrow human wit."

"Wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife."

"From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art."

"Some Figures monstrous and mis-shap'd appear, Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, Which, but proportion'd to their Light, or Place, Due Distance reconciles to Form and Grace."

"A prudent Chief not always must display His Pow'rs in equal Ranks, and fair Array, But with th' Occasion and the Place comply, Conceal his Force, nay seem sometimes to Fly. Those oft are Stratagems which Errors seem, Nor is it Homer Nods, but We that Dream."

"Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind; What the weak head with strongest bias rules, — Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools."

"Trust not your self; but your Defects to know, Make use of ev'ry Friend — and ev'ry Foe."

"A little Learning is a dang'rous Thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian Spring: There shallow Draughts intoxicate the Brain, And drinking largely sobers us again."

"Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!"

"'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all."

"Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be."

"True wit is nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed."

"Words are like leaves; and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found."

"Such labored nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearned, and make the learned smile."

"In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, Alike fantastic if too new or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside."

"As some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire; While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line."

"Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

"True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense; The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow: Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main."

"At ev'ry Trifle scorn to take Offence, That always shows Great Pride, or Little Sense."

"Yet not let each gay turn thy rapture move; For fools admire, but men of sense approve."

"Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men."

"What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!"

"But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!"

"Some praise at morning what they blame at night, But always think the last opinion right."

"We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow; Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so."

"Fondly we think we honour Merit then, When we but praise Our selves in Other Men."

"Envy will merit as its shade pursue, But like a shadow proves the substance true."

"Be thou the first true Merit to befriend; His praise is lost, who stays till All commend."

"Ah ne'er so dire a Thirst of Glory boast, Nor in the Critick let the Man be lost! Good-Nature and Good-Sense must ever join; To err is human, to forgive divine."

"All seems Infected that th' Infected spy, As all looks yellow to the Jaundic'd Eye."

"Learn then what morals critics ought to show, For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know."

"Be silent always when you doubt your sense."

"And make each day a critic on the last."

"'Tis not enough your Counsel still be true, Blunt Truths more Mischief than nice Falsehoods do; Men must be taught as if you taught them not; And Things unknown propos'd as Things forgot."

"The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails."

"Most authors steal their works, or buy; Garth did not write his own Dispensary."

"No Place so Sacred from such Fops is barr'd, Nor is Paul's Church more safe than Paul's Church-yard: Nay, fly to Altars; there they'll talk you dead; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

"But where's the man who counsel can bestow, Still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know?"

"Led by the light of the Mæonian star."

"Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, The learn'd reflect on what before they knew."

"Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend."

"The Essay on Criticism...displays such extent of comprehension, such nicety of distinction, such acquaintance with mankind, and such knowledge both of ancient and modern learning as are not often attained by the maturest age and longest experience."

"One of [Pope's] greatest though of his earliest works is the Essay on Criticism, which if he had written nothing else would have placed him among the first criticks and the first poets, as it exhibits every mode of excellence that can embellish or dignify didactick composition, selection of matter, novelty of arrangement, justness of precept, splendour of illustration, and propriety of digression. I know not whether it be pleasing to consider that he produced this piece at twenty, and never afterwards excelled it: he that delights himself with observing that such powers may be so soon attained, cannot but grieve to think that life was ever after at a stand."