In Imitation of E. of Rochester : On Silence poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster

A poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744)

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 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 132: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 131: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 130: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 129: Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• The Eolian Harp by Samuel Taylor Coleridge by Fledermaus
• Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 31: Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 2: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 29: When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 26: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 23: As an unperfect actor on the stage by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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