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Էջ 135 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up...
Էջ 181 - 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 havoc urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Էջ 181 - 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!
Էջ 180 - Mighty victor, mighty lord! Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior fled?
Էջ 271 - We take it for a translation ; and should believe it to be a true story, if it were not for St. Nicholas.
Էջ xxi - Perhaps it , i may be said, what signifies so much knowledge, when it produced so little ? Is it worth taking so much pains to leave no memorial but a few poems ? But let it be considered that Mr. Gray was to others, at least innocently employed ; to himself, certainly beneficially.
Էջ 181 - And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. Ye Towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murther fed, Revere his Consort's faith, his Father's fame, And spare the meek Usurper's holy head.
Էջ 183 - 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.
Էջ 265 - He is highly civil to our nation ; but there is one point in which he does not do us justice ; I am the more solicitous about it, because it relates to the only taste we can call our own; the only proof of our original talent in matter of pleasure, I mean our skill in gardening, or rather laying out grounds : and this is no small honour to us, since neither Italy nor France have ever had the least notion of it, nor yet do at all comprehend it when they see it. That the Chinese have this beautiful...
Էջ 199 - Extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical, is one of the grand beauties of lyric poetry. This I have always aimed at, and never could attain...

Հեղինակի մասին (1911)

Author of An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1747), Thomas Gray was born in London in 1716. He was educated at Eton, the inspiration for his An Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College (1747), and Cambridge. Except for a tour of the Continent, taken in part with friend Horace Walpole, he spent most of his life in Cambridge, where he became professor of history and modern languages in 1768. He died in 1768 and is buried at Stoke Poges, Buckinghamshire, the home of his mother and the inspiration for his famous elegy.

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