The Works of Thomas Gray ...: Letters. Criticisms on architecture and painting

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Page 137 - 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 138 - Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof; The thread is spun;) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove; The work is done.) — Stay, oh stay!
Page 137 - Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? Long years of havock urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Page 136 - Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to* trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death, thro...
Page 23 - And wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where, with her best nurse, contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaired. He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i...
Page 138 - What strings symphonious tremble in the air. What strains of vocal transport round her play ? Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear : They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
Page 244 - Did you never observe (while rocking winds are piping loud) that pause, as the gust is recollecting itself, and rising upon the ear in a shrill and plaintive note, like the swell of an ^Eolian harp ? I do assure you there is nothing in the world so like the voice of a spirit.
Page 139 - Fond impious Man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the Orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: With joy I see The different doom our Fates assign : Be thine Despair and scept'red Care ; To triumph and to die are mine.
Page 187 - Nevertheless I interest myself a little in the history of it, and rather wish somebody may accept it that will retrieve the credit of the thing, if it be retrievable, or ever had any credit.
Page 253 - Dr. * * (one of its nuisances) is not expected here again in a hurry. He is gone to his grave with five fine mackerel (large and full of roe) in his belly. He eat them all at one dinner; but his fate was a turbot on Trinity Sunday, of which he left little for the company besides bones. He had not been...

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