The grave, a poem. To which are added An elegy in a country church-yard, by Gray. Death, a poem, by bishop Porteus [&c.]. (Google eBook)

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Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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?
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 31 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth...
Page 51 - Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God.
Page 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.

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