The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray, Том 2E.H. Butler, 1858 - 120 стор. |
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Сторінка vi
... written in a Country Church- yard " was published in the year 1749 , that his works obtained any great share of popularity . This well- known " " ' Elegy " has perhaps been reprinted more frequently than any other poem in the English ...
... written in a Country Church- yard " was published in the year 1749 , that his works obtained any great share of popularity . This well- known " " ' Elegy " has perhaps been reprinted more frequently than any other poem in the English ...
Сторінка vii
... , from which he died on the 30th of the same month . Gray's Letters written to his friends West and Horace Walpole , and afterwards to Mr. Mason , to whom he left all his books and papers , are Memoir of the Author . vii.
... , from which he died on the 30th of the same month . Gray's Letters written to his friends West and Horace Walpole , and afterwards to Mr. Mason , to whom he left all his books and papers , are Memoir of the Author . vii.
Сторінка xi
... WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD 45 48 49 50 51 53 A LONG STORY . . . 60 POSTHUMOUS POEMS AND FRAGMENTS . ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE TRANSLATION OF A PASSAGE FROM STATIUS THE FRAGMENT OF A TRAGEDY . HYMN TO IGNORANCE 69 ...
... WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD 45 48 49 50 51 53 A LONG STORY . . . 60 POSTHUMOUS POEMS AND FRAGMENTS . ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE TRANSLATION OF A PASSAGE FROM STATIUS THE FRAGMENT OF A TRAGEDY . HYMN TO IGNORANCE 69 ...
Сторінка 52
Thomas Gray. WRITTEN 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 ...
Thomas Gray. WRITTEN 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 ...
Сторінка 52
Thomas Gray. Thi curfew toils are ke The ng herd w The ploughman , how And leaves the work Now la les the im Add ! .. or as x 1 4 " B WRITTEN THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day ,. ELECY.
Thomas Gray. Thi curfew toils are ke The ng herd w The ploughman , how And leaves the work Now la les the im Add ! .. or as x 1 4 " B WRITTEN THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day ,. ELECY.
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AGRIP Agrippina ancient pile Anicetus arms Baiæ bard beneath blush breast breathe brood brow brown o'er-arching groves climes College dauntless death divine dread Earl Edward Eirin Eolian ETON COLLEGE fame fate fears fire flame flood giv'n glade glittering glow golden golden reign grace Gray hand head heart heav'n Henry the Sixth hoary holy honour Horace Walpole hurl'd John Penn Jove King lap was Nature's Lord Lord of War lyre Margaret of Anjou morn mother Muse Nature's Darling laid Nero night o'er Odin Otho Pindar pleasure plods his weary ploughman homeward plods poem Poppaa pride PROPHETESS race reign repose round sable garb shade sigh SIR WILLIAM WILLIAMS skies smile soft solemn soul stray'd sweet Taliessin tear thee THOMAS GRAY thou thro trembling Urien vale verse voice warblings wat'ry wave weave weep whence wing world to darkness Ye brown o'er-arching youth
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Сторінка 4 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Сторінка 46 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Сторінка 6 - To each his sufferings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, 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.
Сторінка 6 - THE PROGRESS OF POESY A PINDARIC ODE Awake, /Eolinn lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take: The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along Deep, majestic, smooth and strong, Through verdant vales, and Ceres...
Сторінка 6 - Shame that skulks behind ; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth, That inly gnaws the secret heart ; And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Then whirl the wretch from high, To bitter Scorn a sacrifice, And grinning Infamy, The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness...
Сторінка 13 - 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.
Сторінка 47 - Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 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.
Сторінка 43 - 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...
Сторінка 48 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite 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 through 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:' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Сторінка 18 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood ; (Loose his beard and hoary hair, Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air,) And with a master's hand and prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre...