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The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray: English and Latin
Thomas Gray, Sir,John Bradshaw
No preview available - 2015
Poetical Works of Thomas Gray: With a Memoir (Classic Reprint)
No preview available - 2016
ACERONIA adeo aethere Agrippina ancient Anicetus atque auras awake Baiae bard beauties beneath breath brow Cambridge charm circum College death divine dread dulces earl Edward Eirin Elegy Eton Eton College eyes fame fate fears feel fire flamma genius glitt'ring golden grace Gray Gray's haec hand hear heart Heav'n Hinc honour ignes John Penn JOHN SHARPE king lady Long Story longo Lord lyre Margaret of Anjou MASINISSA Mason mind morn mother muse Nero o'er oculis oculos Odin Otho passion Pindar pleasure poem poet poetry Poppaea PROPHETESS quae quod racter reign repose rerum round Scilicet shade Sisters smiling soft solemn song soul spirit stanza Stoke style sublime tactus Taliessin taste tear thee Thomas Gray thou trembling umbra vale verse voice Walpole weep wings written youth
Page 18 - 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 hushed in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 19 - Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare, Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair Fell thirst and famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Page xli - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race, Disporting on thy margent green, The paths of pleasure trace, Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
Page 52 - One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. ' The next with dirges due in sad array Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 50 - Await alike the inevitable hour ; The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, ' If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Page 17 - Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a...
Page 49 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 52 - Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his Father and his God.
Page 52 - Muse, 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 resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?