The Works of Thomas Gray, EsqJ. F. Dove, 1827 - 446 sidor |
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Sida 18
... feels himself a poet , ought to be above prostituting his powers on such occasions , and extreme youth ( as was the case with Mr. Gray ) is the only thing that can apologize for his having done it . you in my next as my true and lawful ...
... feels himself a poet , ought to be above prostituting his powers on such occasions , and extreme youth ( as was the case with Mr. Gray ) is the only thing that can apologize for his having done it . you in my next as my true and lawful ...
Sida 21
... feel her influence while I speak her power . But if it be a real distemper , pray take more care of your health , if not for your own , at least for our sakes , and do not be so soon weary of this little world : I do not know what ...
... feel her influence while I speak her power . But if it be a real distemper , pray take more care of your health , if not for your own , at least for our sakes , and do not be so soon weary of this little world : I do not know what ...
Sida 25
... feel each joy that friendship can divide ; Each realm of science and of art explore , And with the ancient blend the modern lore . Studious alone to learn whate'er may tend To raise the genius or the heart to mend : Now pleas'd along ...
... feel each joy that friendship can divide ; Each realm of science and of art explore , And with the ancient blend the modern lore . Studious alone to learn whate'er may tend To raise the genius or the heart to mend : Now pleas'd along ...
Sida 28
... feel , on that account , obliges me to have done in reminding you that I am , London , Aug. 22 , 1737 . Yours , & c . IX . MR . GRAY TO MR . WALPOLE . 1 I was hindered in my last , and so could not give you all the trouble I would have ...
... feel , on that account , obliges me to have done in reminding you that I am , London , Aug. 22 , 1737 . Yours , & c . IX . MR . GRAY TO MR . WALPOLE . 1 I was hindered in my last , and so could not give you all the trouble I would have ...
Sida 33
... feel I dare not enter the lists with you - cupidum , pater optime , vires deficiunt . Seriously , you write in that language with a grace and an Augustan urbanity that amazes me : your Greek too is perfect in its kind . And here let me ...
... feel I dare not enter the lists with you - cupidum , pater optime , vires deficiunt . Seriously , you write in that language with a grace and an Augustan urbanity that amazes me : your Greek too is perfect in its kind . And here let me ...
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The Works of Thomas Gray: Collated from the Various Editions; With Memoirs ... William Mason,Thomas Gray, Sir Ingen förhandsgranskning - 2016 |
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Abbéville acquaintance admirable agreeable Agrippina ancient Anicetus appear atque beautiful believe called Cambridge church death Duke Dunciad Elegy eyes Florence Genoa give gothic Grande Chartreuse GRAY TO DR Gray's hæc hand hear heart hill honour hope hunting seat imagine IMITATION insert Italy journey King lady letter lines live Lord Lord Bolingbroke manner Massinissa means melancholy mihi miles mind morning mother mountains Naples nature never night numina o'er occasion palace passed perhaps Peterhouse Petrarch Pindar pleasure poem poet poetry Pope Posidippus quæ quod Radicofani reader rest Rheims river road Rome round scene seems seen Senesino shew side sort spirit stanzas Statius sure Syphax Tacitus taste tell Teverone thing thought Tibullus town Turin verse Walpole WEST WHARTON wish write written
Populära avsnitt
Sida 371 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Sida 377 - 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.
Sida 398 - 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. " Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn, Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
Sida 118 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Sida 380 - Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race ; Give ample room, and verge enough, The characters of hell to trace...
Sida 399 - 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 churchway path we saw him borne, — Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Sida 373 - And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe ; By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Sida 372 - 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.
Sida 375 - Man's feeble race what ills await ! . Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate ! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove.
Sida 397 - 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...