The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray LL.B., Late Professor of Modern Languages in the University of Cambridge: With Some Account of His Life and Writings; the Whole Carefully Revised; and Illustrated by Notes, Original and Selected; to which are Annexed, Poems Written By, Addressed To, Or in Memory of Mr. Gray; Several of which Were Never Before Collected
J. Scatcherd, 1799 - 186 Seiten
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray LL.B., Late Professor of Modern Languages ...
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Seite 84 - Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Seite 83 - 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...
Seite 92 - 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.
Seite 87 - Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes...
Seite 91 - 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. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove, Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
Seite 84 - 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.
Seite 11 - 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 ? The captive linnet which enthrall?
Seite 88 - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Seite 90 - 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' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — 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...