The Poetical Works of Thomas GrayJohn Sharpe, 1821 - Počet stran: 134 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 15
Strana 4
... voice in every wind , And snatch a fearful joy . DRAWN BY RICHARD WESTALL , R.A. ENGRAVED BY W. RADCLYFFE : PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE , PICCADILLY : ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE . Ανθρωπος ,. DEC . 1. 1820 . DRAWN BY RICHARD ...
... voice in every wind , And snatch a fearful joy . DRAWN BY RICHARD WESTALL , R.A. ENGRAVED BY W. RADCLYFFE : PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE , PICCADILLY : ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE . Ανθρωπος ,. DEC . 1. 1820 . DRAWN BY RICHARD ...
Strana 6
... voice in every wind , And snatch a fearful joy . Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed , Less pleasing when possest ; The tear forgot as soon as shed , The sunshine of the breast : Theirs buxom health , of rosy hue , Wild wit 6 ODES .
... voice in every wind , And snatch a fearful joy . Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed , Less pleasing when possest ; The tear forgot as soon as shed , The sunshine of the breast : Theirs buxom health , of rosy hue , Wild wit 6 ODES .
Strana 10
... voice , and threat'ning mien , With screaming Horror's fun'ral cry , Despair , and fell Disease , and ghastly Poverty : Thy form benign , oh goddess , wear , Thy milder influence impart , Thy philosophic train be there To soften , not ...
... voice , and threat'ning mien , With screaming Horror's fun'ral cry , Despair , and fell Disease , and ghastly Poverty : Thy form benign , oh goddess , wear , Thy milder influence impart , Thy philosophic train be there To soften , not ...
Strana 12
... voice , the dance , obey , Temper'd to thy warbled lay . Ver . 13. Oh ! Sov'reign of the willing soul ] Power of har- mony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul . The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar . Ver . 20 ...
... voice , the dance , obey , Temper'd to thy warbled lay . Ver . 13. Oh ! Sov'reign of the willing soul ] Power of har- mony to calm the turbulent sallies of the soul . The thoughts are borrowed from the first Pythian of Pindar . Ver . 20 ...
Strana 15
... voice of anguish ! Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breath'd around ; Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : Till the sad Nine , in Greece's evil hour , Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains ...
... voice of anguish ! Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breath'd around ; Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : Till the sad Nine , in Greece's evil hour , Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains ...
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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
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Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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?
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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...
Strana 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...
Strana 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.
Strana 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?
Strana 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!