Famous Pope Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Pope poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous pope poems. These examples illustrate what a famous pope poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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A Dialogue between Old England and New

...d by men of might,
94 The Gospel is trod down and hath no right.
95 Church Offices are sold and bought for gain
96 That Pope had hope to find Rome here again.
97 For Oaths and Blasphemies did ever ear
98 From Beelzebub himself such language hear?
99 What scorning of the Saints of the most high!
100 What injuries did daily on them lie!
101 What false reports, what nick-names did they take,
102 Not for their own, but for their Master's sake!
103 And thou, poor soul, wast jeer'd...Read more of this...
by Bradstreet, Anne


A poem on the rising glory of America

...mp and majesty of song, 
Which gives immortal vigour to the deeds 
Atchiev'd by Heroes in the fields of fame. 
A second Pope, like that Arabian bird 
Of which no age can boast but one, may yet 
Awake the muse by Schuylkill's silent stream, 
And bid new forests bloom along her tide. 
And Susquehanna's rocky stream unsung, 
In bright meanders winding round the hills, 
Where first the mountain nymph sweet echo heard 
The uncouth musick of my rural lay, 
Shall yet remurmur to the...Read more of this...
by Brackenridge, Hugh Henry

An Essay On Criticism

...'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill
Appear in Writing or in Judging ill,
But, of the two, less dang'rous is th' Offence,
To tire our Patience, than mis-lead our Sense:
Some few in that, but Numbers err in this,
Ten Censure wrong for one who Writes amiss;
A Fool might once himself alone expose,
Now One in Verse makes many more in Prose.

'Tis with ou...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander

Bishop Blougrams Apology

...rself. 
--That, my ideal never can include, 
Upon that element of truth and worth 
Never be based! for say they make me Pope-- 
(They can't--suppose it for our argument!) 
Why, there I'm at my tether's end, I've reached 
My height, and not a height which pleases you: 
An unbelieving Pope won't do, you say. 
It's like those eerie stories nurses tell, 
Of how some actor on a stage played Death, 
With pasteboard crown, sham orb and tinselled dart, 
And called himself the monarch...Read more of this...
by Browning, Robert

Easter Day

...d, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
'Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest.
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.'...Read more of this...
by Wilde, Oscar


Essay on Man

...The First Epistle

Awake, my ST. JOHN!(1) leave all meaner things 
To low ambition, and the pride of Kings. 
Let us (since Life can little more supply 
Than just to look about us and to die) 
Expatiate(2) free o'er all this scene of Man; 
A mighty maze! but not without a plan; 
A Wild, where weeds and flow'rs promiscuous shoot, 
Or Garden, tempting with fo...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander

Eviradnus

...s conclude. To wrangle and to fight 
 For just a yes or no, or to prove right 
 The Arian doctrines, all the time the Pope 
 Laughs in his sleeve at you—or with the hope 
 Some blue-eyed damsel with a tender skin 
 And milkwhite dainty hands by force to win— 
 This might be well in days when men bore loss 
 And fought for Latin or Byzantine Cross; 
 When Jack and Rudolf did like fools contend, 
 And for a simple wench their valor spend— 
 When Pepin held a synod at ...Read more of this...
by Hugo, Victor

Ode on Solitude

...I. 
How happy he, who free from care 
The rage of courts, and noise of towns; 
Contented breathes his native air, 
In his own grounds. 

II. 
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire, 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

III. 
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find 
Hours, days, and ...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander

Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror

...tive, treated humanely, kept
In suspension, unable to advance much farther
Than your look as it intercepts the picture.
Pope Clement and his court were "stupefied"
By it, according to Vasari, and promised a commission
That never materialized. The soul has to stay where it is,
Even though restless, hearing raindrops at the pane,
The sighing of autumn leaves thrashed by the wind,
Longing to be free, outside, but it must stay
Posing in this place. It must move
As little as possi...Read more of this...
by Ashbery, John

The Ballad of the White Horse

...nd the din of distant race on race
Cried and replied round Rome.

And there was death on the Emperor
And night upon the Pope:
And Alfred, hiding in deep grass,
Hardened his heart with hope.

A sea-folk blinder than the sea
Broke all about his land,
But Alfred up against them bare
And gripped the ground and grasped the air,
Staggered, and strove to stand.

He bent them back with spear and spade,
With desperate dyke and wall,
With foemen leaning on his shield
And roaring on him...Read more of this...
by Chesterton, G K

The Burden Of Itys

...ys
Of the Maria organ, which they play
When early on some sapphire Easter morn
In a high litter red as blood or sin the Pope is borne

From his dark House out to the Balcony
Above the bronze gates and the crowded square,
Whose very fountains seem for ecstasy
To toss their silver lances in the air,
And stretching out weak hands to East and West
In vain sends peace to peaceless lands, to restless nations rest.

Is not yon lingering orange after-glow
That stays to vex the moon m...Read more of this...
by Wilde, Oscar

The General Prologue

...reatly
For there was he not like a cloisterer,
With threadbare cope as is a poor scholer;
But he was like a master or a pope.
Of double worsted was his semicope*, *short cloak
That rounded was as a bell out of press.
Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness,
To make his English sweet upon his tongue;
And in his harping, when that he had sung,
His eyen* twinkled in his head aright, *eyes
As do the starres in a frosty night.
This worthy limitour  was call'd Huberd.

A MERCHANT...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey

The Jacquerie A Fragment

...f want:
How this Cervolles (called "Arch-priest" by the mass)
Through warm Provence had marched and menace made
Against Pope Innocent at Avignon,
And how the Pope nor ate nor drank nor slept,
Through godly fear concerning his red wines.
For if these knaves should sack his holy house
And all the blessed casks be knocked o' the head,
HORRENDUM! all his Holiness' drink to be
Profanely guzzled down the reeking throats
Of scoundrels, and inflame them on to seize
The massy coffers ...Read more of this...
by Lanier, Sidney

The Man of Laws Tale

...g
For in this woe I may not long endure."

What needeth greater dilatation?
I say, by treaty and ambassadry,
And by the Pope's mediation,
And all the Church, and all the chivalry,
That in destruction of Mah'metry,* *Mahometanism
And in increase of Christe's lawe dear,
They be accorded* so as ye may hear; *agreed

How that the Soudan, and his baronage,
And all his lieges, shall y-christen'd be,
And he shall have Constance in marriage,
And certain gold, I n'ot* what quantity, *...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey

The Owl And The Sparrow

...s make,
"Each woman is at heart a rake."[5]
Thus Owls in every age have said,
Since our first parent-owl was made;
Thus Pope and Swift, to prove their sense,
Shall sing, some twenty ages hence;
Then shall a man of little fame,
One ** **** sing the same....Read more of this...
by Trumbull, John

The Rape of the Lock

...Part 1

WHAT dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs,
What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things,
I sing -- This Verse to C---, Muse! is due;
This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view:
Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise,
If She inspire, and He approve my Lays.
Say what strange Motive, Goddess! cou'd compel
A well-bred Lord t'assault a gentle B...Read more of this...
by Pope, Alexander

The Vision of Judgment

...that 'One fool makes many;' and it hath been poetically observed —

'That fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' - Pope 

If Mr. Southey had not rushed in where he had no business, and where he never was before, and never will be again, the following poem would not have been written. It is not impossible that it may be as good as his own, seeing that it cannot, by any species of stupidity, natural or acquired, be worse. The gross flattery, the dull impudence, the renegad...Read more of this...
by Byron, George (Lord)

The Wife of Baths Tale

...te,
And yet in bacon* had I never delight: *i.e. of Dunmow 9
That made me that I ever would them chide.
For, though the Pope had sitten them beside,
I would not spare them at their owen board,
For, by my troth, I quit* them word for word *repaid
As help me very God omnipotent,
Though I right now should make my testament
I owe them not a word, that is not quit* *repaid
I brought it so aboute by my wit,
That they must give it up, as for the best
Or elles had we never been in re...Read more of this...
by Chaucer, Geoffrey

The Women Who Loved Elvis All Their Lives

...the original, 
but in a gesture copied to whatever lover she takes. 
He will fracture and change to landscape, to the Pope, maybe, 
or President Kennedy, or to a pain that darkens her eyes. 

"Once," she will say, as if she remembers, 
and the memory will stick like a fishbone. She knows 
how easily she will comply when a man puts his hand 
on the back of her neck and gently steers her. 
She knows how long she will wait for rescue, how the world 
will go on expandin...Read more of this...
by Brown, Fleda

Verses on the Death of Doctor Swift

...power, and station,
'Tis all on me an usurpation.
I have no title to aspire;
Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher.
In Pope I cannot read a line,
But with a sigh I wish it mine;
When he can in one couplet fix
More sense than I can do in six;
It gives me such a jealous fit,
I cry "Pox take him and his wit!"
I grieve to be outdone by Gay
In my own hum'rous biting way.
Arbuthnot is no more my friend,
Who dares to irony pretend,
Which I was born to introduce,
Refined it first, a...Read more of this...
by Swift, Jonathan

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