The grave, a poem. To which are added An elegy in a country church-yard, by Gray. Death, a poem, by bishop Porteus [&c.].1804 |
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Страница 11
... leave as keen a relish on the sense . Look , how the fair one weeps ! the conscious tears Stand thick as dew - drops on the bells of flow'rs : Honest effusion ! the swoln heart in vain Works hard to put a gloss on its distress ...
... leave as keen a relish on the sense . Look , how the fair one weeps ! the conscious tears Stand thick as dew - drops on the bells of flow'rs : Honest effusion ! the swoln heart in vain Works hard to put a gloss on its distress ...
Страница 14
... leaving , now no longer hers ! A little longer , yet a little longer , O might she stay to wash away her stains , And fit her for her passage ! mournful sight ! Her very eyes weep blood : and ev'ry groan She heaves is big with horror ...
... leaving , now no longer hers ! A little longer , yet a little longer , O might she stay to wash away her stains , And fit her for her passage ! mournful sight ! Her very eyes weep blood : and ev'ry groan She heaves is big with horror ...
Страница 18
... leaves in Autumn ; yet launch out Into fantastic schemes , which the long livers In the world's hale and undegen'rate days Could scarce have leisure for ; fools that we are ! Never to think of death and of ourselves , At the same time ...
... leaves in Autumn ; yet launch out Into fantastic schemes , which the long livers In the world's hale and undegen'rate days Could scarce have leisure for ; fools that we are ! Never to think of death and of ourselves , At the same time ...
Страница 19
... leaving the cool shade , The tell - tale echo and the bubbling stream , Time out of mind the favourite seats of love , Fast by his gentle mistress lays him down Unblasted by foul tongue . Here friends and foes Lie close , unmindful of ...
... leaving the cool shade , The tell - tale echo and the bubbling stream , Time out of mind the favourite seats of love , Fast by his gentle mistress lays him down Unblasted by foul tongue . Here friends and foes Lie close , unmindful of ...
Страница 27
... even , the weary bird Leaves the wide air , and in some lonely brake Cow'rs down , and dozes till the dawn of day , Then claps his well - fledg'd wings , and bears away . A ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH - YARD . THE. THE GRAVE 27.
... even , the weary bird Leaves the wide air , and in some lonely brake Cow'rs down , and dozes till the dawn of day , Then claps his well - fledg'd wings , and bears away . A ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH - YARD . THE. THE GRAVE 27.
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Almighty arrow cross beneath Bishop Porteus bleeding blood bloom boast breath catholicons cheek cheer COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD cruel dæmon dark dead dead of night Death deep disarm'd dread drops dust E'en e'er earth endless pains ev'n ev'ry fair fame flatt'ring foul gen'ral gen'rous gentle gloomy groan hand hard hunted hast heart Heav'n honour'd horrors hour immortal song joys life's ling'ring liv'd live look loud mankind mansions Methinks mighty nature ne'er neighbours say night nought o'er Offer'd once pain paths of glory Peace pow'r promis'd proud Robert Blair round rouze rude ruin scarce scatter'd shew sight Smil'd smile sons soon soul sound spoils stamp'd strange stream sudden sweet swoln tale tell thee thick thine thing thou thro tomb twas tyrant vex'd warm weary WESTMINSTER ABBEY Whilst wreck wretch yonder younker youth
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Страница 29 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team a-field ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke...
Страница 32 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' The Epitaph Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth, A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Страница 31 - With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Страница 29 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Страница 50 - Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Страница 50 - The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er...
Страница 50 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Страница 31 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth...
Страница 3 - WHILST some affect the sun, and some the shade, Some flee the city, some the hermitage ; Their aims as various, as the roads they take In journeying through life ; — the task be mine To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb ; Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all These travellers meet.