Poems by Mr. GrayJ. Dodsley, 1770 - 120 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 13
... bent , Nor knew the gulf between . ( Malignant Fate fat by , and smil'd ) The flipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd , She tumbled headlong in . Eight Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry OF A FAVOURITE CAT . 13.
... bent , Nor knew the gulf between . ( Malignant Fate fat by , and smil'd ) The flipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd , She tumbled headlong in . Eight Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry OF A FAVOURITE CAT . 13.
الصفحة 22
Thomas Gray. Yet fee how all around ' em wait The Minifters of human fate , And black Misfortune's baleful train , Ah , fhew them where in ambush stand To feize their prey the murth'rous band ! Ah , tell them , they are men ! These shall ...
Thomas Gray. Yet fee how all around ' em wait The Minifters of human fate , And black Misfortune's baleful train , Ah , fhew them where in ambush stand To feize their prey the murth'rous band ! Ah , tell them , they are men ! These shall ...
الصفحة 25
... fate ! Since forrow never comes too late , And happiness too fwiftly flies . Thought would destroy their paradise . No more ; where ignorance is bliss , ' Tis folly to be wife . HYMN HY M N ΤΟ ADVERSITY . • Ζήνα Τὸν φρονεῖν PROSPECT OF ...
... fate ! Since forrow never comes too late , And happiness too fwiftly flies . Thought would destroy their paradise . No more ; where ignorance is bliss , ' Tis folly to be wife . HYMN HY M N ΤΟ ADVERSITY . • Ζήνα Τὸν φρονεῖν PROSPECT OF ...
الصفحة 42
... Fate ! The fond complaint , my Song , difprove , And justify the laws of Jove . Say , has he giv'n in vain the heav'nly Mufe ? Night , and all her fickly dews , 1 Her Spectres wan , and Birds of boding cry . He gives to range the dreary ...
... Fate ! The fond complaint , my Song , difprove , And justify the laws of Jove . Say , has he giv'n in vain the heav'nly Mufe ? Night , and all her fickly dews , 1 Her Spectres wan , and Birds of boding cry . He gives to range the dreary ...
الصفحة 66
Thomas Gray. III . I. " Edward , lo ! to fudden fate " ( Weave we the woof . The thread is spun . ) " Half of thy heart we consecrate . " ( The web is wove . The work is done . ) " 6 Stay , oh ftay ! nor thus forlorn . • Leave me unblefs ...
Thomas Gray. III . I. " Edward , lo ! to fudden fate " ( Weave we the woof . The thread is spun . ) " Half of thy heart we consecrate . " ( The web is wove . The work is done . ) " 6 Stay , oh ftay ! nor thus forlorn . • Leave me unblefs ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
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
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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...
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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...
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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...