Poems |
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Página xxxviii
Thus fades the flow'r nip'd by the frozen gale , Tho ' once so sweet , so lovely to the eye : Thus the tall oaks , when boist'rous storms affail , Torn from the earth , a mighty ruin lye . Ye sacred sisters of the plaintive verse ...
Thus fades the flow'r nip'd by the frozen gale , Tho ' once so sweet , so lovely to the eye : Thus the tall oaks , when boist'rous storms affail , Torn from the earth , a mighty ruin lye . Ye sacred sisters of the plaintive verse ...
Página 94
Far from the sun and summer - gale , In thy green lap was Nature's darling * laid , What time , where lucid Avon stray'd , To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face : the dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms ...
Far from the sun and summer - gale , In thy green lap was Nature's darling * laid , What time , where lucid Avon stray'd , To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face : the dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms ...
Página 107
Edward the Second , cruelly butchered in Berkley castle . + Isabel of France , Edward the Second's adulterous Queen . Triumphs of Edward the Third in France . H II . 2. “ Mighty II . 2 . Mighty Victor , mighty Lord , A PINDARIC ODE . 107.
Edward the Second , cruelly butchered in Berkley castle . + Isabel of France , Edward the Second's adulterous Queen . Triumphs of Edward the Third in France . H II . 2. “ Mighty II . 2 . Mighty Victor , mighty Lord , A PINDARIC ODE . 107.
Página 108
Mighty Victor , mighty Lord , " Low on his funeral couch he lies * ! “ No pitying heart , no eye , afford “ A tear to grace his obsequies . « Is the fable warrior y fled ? “ Thy son is gone . He rests among the dead .
Mighty Victor , mighty Lord , " Low on his funeral couch he lies * ! “ No pitying heart , no eye , afford “ A tear to grace his obsequies . « Is the fable warrior y fled ? “ Thy son is gone . He rests among the dead .
Página 135
PROPHETE S S. Ha ! no Traveller art thou , King of Men , I know thee now ; Mightiest of a mighty lineODIN . No boding Maid of skill divine Art thou , nor Prophetess of good , But mother of the giant - brood !
PROPHETE S S. Ha ! no Traveller art thou , King of Men , I know thee now ; Mightiest of a mighty lineODIN . No boding Maid of skill divine Art thou , nor Prophetess of good , But mother of the giant - brood !
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Términos y frases comunes
againſt Annuities appear arms Bank beneath breaſt breath Cambridge compenſation COUNTRY death deep deſire dreadful edition Edward eyes face fate father fire firſt Full gave give given glory Gray Gray's hand harmony head heard heart human hundred pounds Italy kind King Lady laid land laſt leave light lines living London Lord loves lyre Maſon means mind mother Muſe nature night notes o'er O’er ODIN once pain perſon Pindar pleaſure poems Poet preſent PUBLIC publiſher Queen ſaid ſay ſee ſeen ſhade ſhall ſhe ſome ſong ſoul ſpirit ſtand ſtrains ſuch ſum ſun tear thee theſe THOMAS thou thought thro Till triumph verſes voice wait Weave whoſe wind wing wiſh youth Τ Η Ε
Pasajes populares
Página 46 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Página 93 - 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.
Página 147 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Página 149 - And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Página 61 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings: all are men, Condemned alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th
Página 155 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite 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 churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Página 104 - 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 grisly band, I see them sit; they linger yet Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Página 156 - 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. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Página 148 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Página 138 - OWEN's praise demands my song, OWEN swift, and OWEN strong; Fairest flower of Roderic's stem, * Gwyneth's shield, and Britain's gem. He nor heaps his brooded stores, Nor on all profusely pours; Lord of every regal art, Liberal hand, and open heart. Big with hosts of mighty name, Squadrons three against him came; This the force of Eirin hiding, Side by side as proudly riding, On her shadow long and gay * Lochlin plows...
Información bibliográfica
| Título | Poems |
| Autor | Thomas Gray |
| Editor | J. Murray, 1778 |
| Procedencia del original | Biblioteca Pública de Nueva York |
| Digitalizado | 2 Dic. 2006 |
| Largo | 158 páginas |
| Exportar cita | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |