The Poetical Works of Thomas GrayJohn Sharpe, 1821 - 134 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 1-5 із 5
Сторінка 38
... PROPHETESS . What call unknown , what charms presume To break the quiet of the tomb ? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite , And drags me from the realms of night ? Long on these mould'ring bones have beat The winter's snow , the ...
... PROPHETESS . What call unknown , what charms presume To break the quiet of the tomb ? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite , And drags me from the realms of night ? Long on these mould'ring bones have beat The winter's snow , the ...
Сторінка 39
... PROPHETESS . Mantling in the goblet see The pure bev'rage of the bee : O'er it hangs the shield of gold ; ' Tis the drink of Balder bold : Balder's head to death is giv'n . Pain can reach the sons of heav'n ! Unwilling I my lips unclose ...
... PROPHETESS . Mantling in the goblet see The pure bev'rage of the bee : O'er it hangs the shield of gold ; ' Tis the drink of Balder bold : Balder's head to death is giv'n . Pain can reach the sons of heav'n ! Unwilling I my lips unclose ...
Сторінка 40
... PROPHETESS . In Hoder's hand the hero's doom ; His brother sends him to the tomb . Now my weary lips I close : Leave me , leave me to repose . ODIN . Prophetess , my spell obey , Once again arise , and say , Who th ' avenger of his ...
... PROPHETESS . In Hoder's hand the hero's doom ; His brother sends him to the tomb . Now my weary lips I close : Leave me , leave me to repose . ODIN . Prophetess , my spell obey , Once again arise , and say , Who th ' avenger of his ...
Сторінка 41
... Prophetess , awake , and say , What virgins these , in speechless woe , That bend to earth their solemn brow , That their flaxen tresses tear , And snowy veils that float in air ? Tell me whence their sorrows rose ; Then I leave thee to ...
... Prophetess , awake , and say , What virgins these , in speechless woe , That bend to earth their solemn brow , That their flaxen tresses tear , And snowy veils that float in air ? Tell me whence their sorrows rose ; Then I leave thee to ...
Сторінка 42
Thomas Gray. ODIN . No boding maid of skill divine Art thou , nor prophetess of good ; But mother of the giant brood ! PROPHETESS . Hie thee hence , and boast at home , That never shall inquirer come To break my iron - sleep again ; Till ...
Thomas Gray. ODIN . No boding maid of skill divine Art thou , nor prophetess of good ; But mother of the giant brood ! PROPHETESS . Hie thee hence , and boast at home , That never shall inquirer come To break my iron - sleep again ; Till ...
Інші видання - Показати все
Загальні терміни та фрази
ACERONIA AGRIPPINA ancient Anicetus arva atque auras awake Baiæ Bard beauties beneath breath brow Caernarvonshire Cambridge charm College death divine DRAWN BY RICHARD dread earl Edward Eirin Elegy Eton Eton College eyes fame fate fears feel fire genius glitt'ring golden grace Gray's hæc hear heart heav'n Hinc honour ignes John Penn JOHN SHARPE king lady latè Long Story longo Lord lyre Margaret of Anjou MASINISSA Mason mind morn mother Muse Nero o'er oculis oculos ODIN Otho passion PICCADILLY Pindar pleasure poem poet poetry Poppaa PROPHETESS quâ quæ quod racter regna reign repose rerum RICHARD WESTALL round Scilicet shade Sisters smiling soft solemn song soul spirit stanza Stoke style sublime tactus Taliessin taste tear thee THOMAS GRAY thou trembling vale verse voice Walpole weep wings written youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 3 - 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?
Сторінка 51 - 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.
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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...
Сторінка 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...
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 50 - 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?
Сторінка 4 - Alas! regardless of their doom The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come Nor care beyond to-day: Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train!