Poetical Works: To which is Prefixed an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, المجلد 2

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الصفحة 188 - 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.
الصفحة 192 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
الصفحة 190 - The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
الصفحة 198 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies. Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
الصفحة 204 - 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...
الصفحة 200 - 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.
الصفحة 198 - Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Mufe, The place of fame and elegy fupply : And many a holy text around fhe ftrews, That teach the ruftic moralift to dye.
الصفحة 196 - Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to defpife, To fcatter plenty o'er a fmiling land, And read their...
الصفحة 190 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
الصفحة 198 - For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd dead Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall...

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