The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray: With the Life of the Author ... |
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Страница 77
8 I 2 Beneath thofe rugged elms , that yew - tree's fhade , Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap , Each in his narrow cell for ever laid , The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep . 16 The breezy call of incense - breathing ...
8 I 2 Beneath thofe rugged elms , that yew - tree's fhade , Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap , Each in his narrow cell for ever laid , The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep . 16 The breezy call of incense - breathing ...
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appears arms Author bear beauties beneath breaſt breath Cambridge charms College death deep defire Delia Edward ELEGY ev'ry eyes fair fame fate father fear feel fhall fields figh filent fire firft flame flow fmile folemn fome fong foul ftill gave give gold golden grace Gray hand head hear heart hence honour hope hour human it's Italy kind King Lady learning leave light live loft Lord lover maid mind morn Mufe nature never night notes o'er once paffion pain pleaſe Poet poetical poetry pride Queen round ſhall tear tender thee thefe theſe thoſe thou thought thro Till train triumph vain virtue voice weep whofe wife wing writers youth
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Страница 81 - 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. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Страница 43 - This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.
Страница 49 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Страница 80 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th...
Страница 78 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th
Страница 53 - Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign: Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.
Страница 36 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah ! why should they know their fate ? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more ; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Страница 6 - And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet Morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear And weep the more because I weep in vain.
Страница 19 - ... always to mean more than he said. Would you have any more reasons? An interval of above forty years has pretty well destroyed the charm.
Страница 45 - Thro' the azure deep of air : Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray, With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun : Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the Good how far — but far above the Great. THE BARD. A Pindaric Ode. I. i. seize thee, ruthless King ! Confusion on thy banners wait ; Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.