In Imitation of E. of Rochester : On Silence poem – Alexander Pope

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744) , the greatest English poet of “Augustan” or Georgian period

I.

Silence! coeval with Eternity;

Thou wert, ere Nature’s-self began to be,

‘Twas one vast Nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee.

II.

Thine was the sway, ere heav’n was form’d, or earth,

Ere fruitful Thought conceiv’d creation’s birth,

Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.

III.

Then various elements, against thee join’d,

In one more various animal combin’d,

And fam’d the clam’rous race of busy Human-kind.

IV.

The tongue mov’d gently first, and speech was low,

‘Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show,

And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.

V.

But rebel Wit deserts thee oft’ in vain;

Lost in the maze of words he turns again,

And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign.

VI.

Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free,

Oppress’d with argumental tyranny,

And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee.

VII.

With thee in private modest Dulness lies,

And in thy bosom lurks in Thought’s disguise;

Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wise!

VIII.

Yet thy indulgence is by both confest;

Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast,

And ’tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest.

IX.

Silence the knave’s repute, the whore’s good name,

The only honour of the wishing dame;

Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of Fame.

X.

But could’st thou seize some tongues that now are free,

How Church and State should be oblig’d to thee!

At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome would’st thou be!

XI.

Yet speech ev’n there, submissively withdraws,

From rights of subjects, and the poor man’s cause:

Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy Laws.

XII.

Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,

What Fav’rites gain, and what the Nation owes,

Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.

XIII.

The country wit, religion of the town,

The courtier’s learning, policy o’ th’ gown,

Are best by thee express’d; and shine in thee alone.

XIV.

The parson’s cant, the lawyer’s sophistry,

Lord’s quibble, critic’s jest; all end in thee,

All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally.

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Poems in English 

• Sonnet 94: They that have power to hurt and will do none by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 93: So shall I live, supposing thou art true by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 90: Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 84: Who is it that says most, which can say more by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 83: I never saw that you did painting need by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 81: Or I shall live your epitaph to make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 80: O, how I faint when I of you do write by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 7: Lo, in the orient when the gracious light by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 77: Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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