The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray: English and Latin |
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Page 13
... language of Euryalus , - " Genitrix est mihi ; " and Gray , in like circumstances , felt no less the pleasure of watching over the happiness of a parent so deservedly beloved by him . With a small for- tune , which her husband's ...
... language of Euryalus , - " Genitrix est mihi ; " and Gray , in like circumstances , felt no less the pleasure of watching over the happiness of a parent so deservedly beloved by him . With a small for- tune , which her husband's ...
Page 18
... language of the age is never the lan- guage of poetry , excepting among the French , whose verse , when the thoughts or image does not sup- port it , differs in nothing from prose , & c . " And he then supports this opinion by saying ...
... language of the age is never the lan- guage of poetry , excepting among the French , whose verse , when the thoughts or image does not sup- port it , differs in nothing from prose , & c . " And he then supports this opinion by saying ...
Page 19
... language of Shakespeare may Garth inflamed with early praise . " " Well - natured Prol . to Sat. 137 . for want of the insertion of " me " after " inflamed , " the verb is mistaken for the passive voice , and is applied to Garth himself ...
... language of Shakespeare may Garth inflamed with early praise . " " Well - natured Prol . to Sat. 137 . for want of the insertion of " me " after " inflamed , " the verb is mistaken for the passive voice , and is applied to Garth himself ...
Page 22
... languages , how could the writer of an English Dictionary be ignorant , that the ready conversion of our sub- stantives into verbs , participles , and participial adjec- tives , is of the very essence of our tongue , derived to it from ...
... languages , how could the writer of an English Dictionary be ignorant , that the ready conversion of our sub- stantives into verbs , participles , and participial adjec- tives , is of the very essence of our tongue , derived to it from ...
Page 23
... language . Shakespeare , in a ludicrous but expressive phrase , has converted even a proper name into a participle of this de- scription Petruchio , he says , is Kated . ' The epithet of a hectoring fellow is a more familiar instance of ...
... language . Shakespeare , in a ludicrous but expressive phrase , has converted even a proper name into a participle of this de- scription Petruchio , he says , is Kated . ' The epithet of a hectoring fellow is a more familiar instance of ...
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Common terms and phrases
Agrippina ALCAIC Anicetus appears atque Baię Bard beautiful beneath breast breath called Cambridge College composition Conyers Middleton death Duke of Grafton Eirin Elegy English Eton Eton College expression fate fear feel fire genius GRANDE CHARTREUSE Gray Gray's hęc heart Heav'n Horace Horace Walpole ignes Johnson Joseph Wharton King Lady language late Latin letter lived Lord lyre lyric MASINISSA Mason melancholy Memoir mentioned Milton mind morn mother Muse nature never Nicholls night noble Notes numbers o'er Otho pain Pembroke College Pindaric pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Pope Poppęa printed quę reign repose rhyme says scene seems shade Shakespeare Sir James Mackintosh smile soft soul spirit stanza Stoke taste thee THOMAS GRAY thou thought vale verse Walpole West Wharton write written youth καὶ
Popular passages
Page 139 - 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...
Page 162 - 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 ? The captive linnet which enthrall?
Page 35 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 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 inquire thy fate, — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Page 115 - 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.
Page 126 - 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, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Page 200 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite 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.
Page 163 - 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!
Page 173 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood ; (Loose his beard and hoary hair, Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air,) And with a master's hand and prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre...
Page 197 - How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 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 the' inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Page 118 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.