Poems by Mr. GrayWilliam Sleater, 1768 - 187 pages |
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Page 138
Thomas Gray. 12 . Quis fcit , an hic animus neglectâ in fede quiefcat Quis prius incaluit cœleftis femine flammæ ? Quis fcit , an hic fceptro Manus haud indigna re- cumbat , Quæve lyræ poterat magicum inspirâffe furorem ? - 13 . Annales ...
Thomas Gray. 12 . Quis fcit , an hic animus neglectâ in fede quiefcat Quis prius incaluit cœleftis femine flammæ ? Quis fcit , an hic fceptro Manus haud indigna re- cumbat , Quæve lyræ poterat magicum inspirâffe furorem ? - 13 . Annales ...
Page 143
... , fpelt by th ' unletter'd mufe , The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy Text around fhe ftrews , That teach the ruftic moralift to die . For 22 . Sollicita quis enim , quis amatæ dulcia Vitæ ELEGY . 143.
... , fpelt by th ' unletter'd mufe , The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy Text around fhe ftrews , That teach the ruftic moralift to die . For 22 . Sollicita quis enim , quis amatæ dulcia Vitæ ELEGY . 143.
Page 144
Thomas Gray. 22 . Sollicita quis enim , quis amatæ dulcia Vitæ Tædia , fuftinuit mutare filentibus umbris ; Deferuitve almæ confinia lata diei , Nec defiderio cun & tantia lumina flexit ? 23 . Projicit in gremium fefe moriturus amicum ...
Thomas Gray. 22 . Sollicita quis enim , quis amatæ dulcia Vitæ Tædia , fuftinuit mutare filentibus umbris ; Deferuitve almæ confinia lata diei , Nec defiderio cun & tantia lumina flexit ? 23 . Projicit in gremium fefe moriturus amicum ...
Page 146
... quis erit , tua qui cognato pectore quondam Fata roget , folâ fecum meditatus in umbrâ , - 25 . Fortè aliquis memoret , canus jam tempora Paftor , " Illum fæpe novo fub lucis vidimus ortu " Verrentem propero matutinos pede rores ...
... quis erit , tua qui cognato pectore quondam Fata roget , folâ fecum meditatus in umbrâ , - 25 . Fortè aliquis memoret , canus jam tempora Paftor , " Illum fæpe novo fub lucis vidimus ortu " Verrentem propero matutinos pede rores ...
Popular passages
Page 65 - 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.
Page 61 - 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.
Page 102 - Hoarse he bays with hideous din, Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin ; And long pursues, with fruitless yell, The father of the powerful spell.
Page 52 - 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...
Page 31 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings: all are men, Condemned alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th
Page 68 - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far ! — but far above the...
Page 22 - Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry watry God, Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd: Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A Fav'rite has no friend! From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd, Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all, that glisters, gold.
Page 147 - 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.
Page 137 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th
Page 145 - 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...