Poems by Mr. GrayJ. Dodsley, 1770 - 120 страница |
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Страница 63
... smile upon their baffled Guest . Richard the Second ( as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifefto , by Thomas of Walfingham , and all the older Writers ) was ftarved to death . The story of his ...
... smile upon their baffled Guest . Richard the Second ( as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifefto , by Thomas of Walfingham , and all the older Writers ) was ftarved to death . The story of his ...
Страница 93
... smile Flaming on the fun'ral pile . Now my weary lips I clofe : Leave me , leave me to repofe . O. Yet a - while my call obey . Prophetefs , awake , and say , What Virgins thefe , in fpeechlefs woe , That bend to earth their folemn brow ...
... smile Flaming on the fun'ral pile . Now my weary lips I clofe : Leave me , leave me to repofe . O. Yet a - while my call obey . Prophetefs , awake , and say , What Virgins thefe , in fpeechlefs woe , That bend to earth their folemn brow ...
Страница 112
... smile , The short and fimple annals of the poor , The boaft of heraldry , the pomp of pow'r , And all that beauty , all that wealth e'er gave , Await alike th ' inevitable hour . The paths of glory lead but to the grave . Nor you , ye ...
... smile , The short and fimple annals of the poor , The boaft of heraldry , the pomp of pow'r , And all that beauty , all that wealth e'er gave , Await alike th ' inevitable hour . The paths of glory lead but to the grave . Nor you , ye ...
Страница 118
... 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 crofs'd in hopeless love . • One • One morn I mifs'd him on the custom'd hill 118 ELEGY ...
... 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 crofs'd in hopeless love . • One • One morn I mifs'd him on the custom'd hill 118 ELEGY ...
Чести термини и фразе
Æolian art thou Befide beneath breaſt breath bufy Cæfar Caithness Cambria's chear cloſe COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD crimſon dauntless Death Denmark DESCENT of ODIN dread dreft drop'd Dryden's duft Edward Eirin ELEGY endless night ETON COLLEGE eyes fable FATAL SISTERS fate FAVOURITE CAT fecret feen fhade fhall firft fleep folemn fome forrow foul ftill ftrains ftream ftrings fublime fuch glitt'ring glory Goddeſs griefly hafty hand Hark Hauberk heart Heav'n Henry the Sixth Hoder's horfe Italy King Lancaſter lance Lefs loft Lord Love lyre Maid majeſtic Milton Milton's Paradife Mufe ne'er numbers o'er Paffions pain Petrarch Pindaric Ode pleaſure PROGRESS of POESY purſue Quarto reft reign repofe rill ſay ſeen ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhould ſmile Snowdon ſome ſong ſpeed ſpring ſtate ſteep ſweet tear thee theſe thou thro TRIUMPHS of OWEN voice Weave Welsh whofe whoſe youth
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Страница 119 - One morn I missed him on the customed 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 through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Страница 25 - 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.
Страница 47 - 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.
Страница 118 - 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.
Страница 110 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Страница 5 - O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think (At ease reclined in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the Crowd, How low, how little are the Proud, How indigent the Great ! Still is the toiling hand of Care ; The panting herds repose : Yet hark, how thro...
Страница 18 - 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.
Страница 30 - Tis folly to be wise. HYMN TO ADVERSITY DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When...
Страница 46 - 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. Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrantpower, And coward vice, that revels in her chains. When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, oh, Albion! next thy seaencircled coast.
Страница 109 - 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. 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...