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 2
With study pále , and midnight vigils spent , The star - surveying sage close to his
eye . Applies the sight - invigorating tube ; And trav ' lling thro ' the boundless
length of space , Marks well the courses of the far - seen orbs , That roll with ...
With study pále , and midnight vigils spent , The star - surveying sage close to his
eye . Applies the sight - invigorating tube ; And trav ' lling thro ' the boundless
length of space , Marks well the courses of the far - seen orbs , That roll with ...
Page 5
Fond couple ! link ' d more close than wedded pair ; This wings its way to its
Almighty Source , The witness of its actions , now its judge ; That drops into the
dark and noisome grave , Like a disabled pitcher of no use . If death was nothing
, and ...
Fond couple ! link ' d more close than wedded pair ; This wings its way to its
Almighty Source , The witness of its actions , now its judge ; That drops into the
dark and noisome grave , Like a disabled pitcher of no use . If death was nothing
, and ...
Page 7
tis no matter : A very little time will clear up all ; 1 . And make us learn ' d as you
are , and as close . Death ' s shafts fly thick ! Here falls the village swaing And
there his pamper ' d lord ! The cup goes round , And who so artful as to put it by ?
tis no matter : A very little time will clear up all ; 1 . And make us learn ' d as you
are , and as close . Death ' s shafts fly thick ! Here falls the village swaing And
there his pamper ' d lord ! The cup goes round , And who so artful as to put it by ?
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 17
I ' ll ask no ' more ; Sullen , like lamps in sepulchres , your shine Enlightens but
yourselves : well — ' tis no matter : A very little time will clear up all , And make us
learn ' d as you are , and as close . Death ' s shafts fly thick ! Here falls the village
...
I ' ll ask no ' more ; Sullen , like lamps in sepulchres , your shine Enlightens but
yourselves : well — ' tis no matter : A very little time will clear up all , And make us
learn ' d as you are , and as close . Death ' s shafts fly thick ! Here falls the village
...
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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...