Skip to content

Alexander Pope on Death

1688–1744 England

← All quotes by Alexander Pope

11 quotes

A heap of dust remains of thee;
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady (1717)

Till tired, he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.

The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest,
And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!

Windsor Forest (1713)

But thousands die without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college or a cat.

See my lips tremble and my eyeballs roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!

Eloisa to Abelard (1717)

O Death, all eloquent! you only prove
What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love.

Eloisa to Abelard (1717)

Vital spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame.

Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712)

By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd,
By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd,
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd,
By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd.

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady (1717)

Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be dressed,
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast;
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow.

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O grave! where is thy victory?
O death! where is thy sting?

The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712)

Attribution

Quotes and notes from Wikiquote: Alexander Pope (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0.