The grave, a poem. To which are added An elegy in a country church-yard, by Gray. Death, a poem, by bishop Porteus [&c.]. |
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Page 8
Whilst decp mouth ' d slaughter bellowing at her heels , Wades deep in blood
new spilt ; yet for to - morrow Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring ,
And inly pines till the dread blow is struck . But hold ! I ' ve gone too far ; too much
...
Whilst decp mouth ' d slaughter bellowing at her heels , Wades deep in blood
new spilt ; yet for to - morrow Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring ,
And inly pines till the dread blow is struck . But hold ! I ' ve gone too far ; too much
...
Page 9
Ambition , half convicted of her folly , Hangs down the head , and reddens at the
tale , Here all the mighty troublers of the earth , Who swam to soy ' reign rule thro '
seas of blood ; Th ' oppressive , sturdy , man - destroying villains , A 4 .
Ambition , half convicted of her folly , Hangs down the head , and reddens at the
tale , Here all the mighty troublers of the earth , Who swam to soy ' reign rule thro '
seas of blood ; Th ' oppressive , sturdy , man - destroying villains , A 4 .
Page 14
Her very eyes weep blood : and ev ' ry groan She heaves is big with horror : but
the foe , Like a staunch murd ' rer , steady to his purpose Pursues her close thro '
ev ' ry lane of life , Nor misses once the track , but presses on ; Till , forc ' d at last
...
Her very eyes weep blood : and ev ' ry groan She heaves is big with horror : but
the foe , Like a staunch murd ' rer , steady to his purpose Pursues her close thro '
ev ' ry lane of life , Nor misses once the track , but presses on ; Till , forc ' d at last
...
Page 30
Some vilage - Hampden , that with dauntless breast , The little tyrant of his fields
withstood , Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest , Some Cromwell guiltless
of his country ' s blood . The applause of list ' ning senates to command , The ...
Some vilage - Hampden , that with dauntless breast , The little tyrant of his fields
withstood , Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest , Some Cromwell guiltless
of his country ' s blood . The applause of list ' ning senates to command , The ...
Page
First Envy , eldest born of Hell , embrued Her hands in blood , and taught the
Sons of Men To make a Death which Nature never made . And God abhorr ' d ;
with violence rude to break The thread of life ere half its length was run , And rob
a ...
First Envy , eldest born of Hell , embrued Her hands in blood , and taught the
Sons of Men To make a Death which Nature never made . And God abhorr ' d ;
with violence rude to break The thread of life ere half its length was run , And rob
a ...
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The Grave, a Poem. to Which Are Added an Elegy in a Country Church-Yard, by ... Robert Blair No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
aged bear beneath blood boast breath cheer close comes common course dark dead Death deep dread drops dust earth ev'n ev'ry face fair fall fame fire gentle give grave half hand happy hard hast head hear heart Heav'n hope horrors hour joys keep Labour leave lies life's live look mankind Mark means meet mighty nature ne'er never night o'er once pain path Peace poor pow'r proud realms rest rise rose round rude ruin Save scarce shade short sight silence smile sons soon soul sound spoils stand steps stone stood strange stream sudden Sure sweet tell thee thick thine thing thou thought thousand thro toil tomb warm weary Whilst whole winds wreck wretch yonder youth
Popular passages
Page 8 - 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...
Page 8 - 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.
Page 8 - 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.
Page 8 - 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?
Page 8 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth...
Bibliographic information
| Title | The grave, a poem. To which are added An elegy in a country church-yard, by Gray. Death, a poem, by bishop Porteus [&c.]. |
| Author | Robert Blair |
| Published | 1804 |
| Original from | Oxford University |
| Digitized | 21 Jun 2007 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |