The grave, a poem. To which are added An elegy in a country church-yard, by Gray. Death, a poem, by bishop Porteus [&c.].1804 |
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Página 7
... Son of the morning ! whither art thou gone ? Where hast thou hid thy many - spangled head , And the majestic menace of thine eyes Felt from afar ? pliant and pow'rless now ; Like new - born infant bound up in his swathes , Or victim ...
... Son of the morning ! whither art thou gone ? Where hast thou hid thy many - spangled head , And the majestic menace of thine eyes Felt from afar ? pliant and pow'rless now ; Like new - born infant bound up in his swathes , Or victim ...
Página 13
... son ,. Where are thy boasted implements of art , And all thy well . cram'd magazines of health Nor hill , nor vale , as far as ship could go , Nor margin of the gravel - bottom'd brook , Escap'd thy rifling hand ! from stubborn shrubs ...
... son ,. Where are thy boasted implements of art , And all thy well . cram'd magazines of health Nor hill , nor vale , as far as ship could go , Nor margin of the gravel - bottom'd brook , Escap'd thy rifling hand ! from stubborn shrubs ...
Página 19
... sons and daughters ; The barren wife ; the long demuring maid Whose lonely unappropriated sweets Smil'd like yon knot of cowslips on the cliff , Not to be come at by the willing hand . Here are the prude severe , and gay coquette , The ...
... sons and daughters ; The barren wife ; the long demuring maid Whose lonely unappropriated sweets Smil'd like yon knot of cowslips on the cliff , Not to be come at by the willing hand . Here are the prude severe , and gay coquette , The ...
Página 22
... sons , his fortune's heirs . Inglorious bondage ! human nature groans Beneath the vassalage so vile and cruel , And its vast body bleeds through ev'ry vein . What havoc hast thou made , foul monster , sin ! Greatest and first of ills ...
... sons , his fortune's heirs . Inglorious bondage ! human nature groans Beneath the vassalage so vile and cruel , And its vast body bleeds through ev'ry vein . What havoc hast thou made , foul monster , sin ! Greatest and first of ills ...
Página 24
... Son of God , thee foil'd . Him in thy pow'r Thou could'st not hold ; self - vigorous he rose , And shaking off thy fetters , soon retook Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent . ( Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall ! Twice ...
... Son of God , thee foil'd . Him in thy pow'r Thou could'st not hold ; self - vigorous he rose , And shaking off thy fetters , soon retook Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent . ( Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall ! Twice ...
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The Grave, a Poem. to Which Are Added an Elegy in a Country Church-Yard, by ... Robert Blair Prévia não disponível - 2016 |
Termos e frases comuns
Almighty arrow cross beneath Bishop Porteus bleeding blood bloom boast breath catholicons cheek cheer COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD cruel dæmon dark dead dead of night Death deep disarm'd dread drops dust E'en e'er earth endless pains ev'n ev'ry fair fame flatt'ring foul gen'ral gen'rous gentle gloomy groan hand hard hunted hast heart Heav'n honour'd horrors hour immortal song joys life's ling'ring liv'd live look loud mankind mansions Methinks mighty nature ne'er neighbours say night nought o'er Offer'd once pain paths of glory Peace pow'r promis'd proud Robert Blair round rouze rude ruin scarce scatter'd shew sight Smil'd smile sons soon soul sound spoils stamp'd strange stream sudden sweet swoln tale tell thee thick thine thing thou thro tomb twas tyrant vex'd warm weary WESTMINSTER ABBEY Whilst wreck wretch yonder younker youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 29 - 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. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team a-field ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke...
Página 32 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' The Epitaph 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.
Página 31 - With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Página 29 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Página 50 - 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.
Página 50 - 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...
Página 50 - 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.
Página 31 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth...
Página 3 - WHILST some affect the sun, and some the shade, Some flee the city, some the hermitage ; Their aims as various, as the roads they take In journeying through life ; — the task be mine To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb ; Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all These travellers meet.