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
Whose ev ' ry , look and gesture was a joke To clapping theatres and shouting
crowds , And inade ev ' n thick lipp ' d musing malancholy To gather up her face
into a smile Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now , And dumb as the green turf
...
Whose ev ' ry , look and gesture was a joke To clapping theatres and shouting
crowds , And inade ev ' n thick lipp ' d musing malancholy To gather up her face
into a smile Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now , And dumb as the green turf
...
Page
In mode and form , ev ' n to a very scruple ; O cruel irony ! these , come too late ;
And only mock whom they were meant to honor . Surely there ' s not a dungeon -
slave that ' s buried In the highway , unshrouded and uncoffin ' d , Eut lies as soft
...
In mode and form , ev ' n to a very scruple ; O cruel irony ! these , come too late ;
And only mock whom they were meant to honor . Surely there ' s not a dungeon -
slave that ' s buried In the highway , unshrouded and uncoffin ' d , Eut lies as soft
...
Page 45
ve ; Whose ev ' ry look and gesture was a joke : To clapping theatres and
shouting crowds , And made ev ' n thick lipp ' d musing malancholy To gather up
her face into a smile . . Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now , And dumb as
the ...
ve ; Whose ev ' ry look and gesture was a joke : To clapping theatres and
shouting crowds , And made ev ' n thick lipp ' d musing malancholy To gather up
her face into a smile . . Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now , And dumb as
the ...
Page 45
In mode and form , ev ' n to a very scruple ; O cruel irony ! these come too late ;
And only mock whom they were meant to honor . Surely there ' s not a dungeon -
slave that ' s buried In the highway , unshrcaded and uncoffin ' d , But lies as soft
...
In mode and form , ev ' n to a very scruple ; O cruel irony ! these come too late ;
And only mock whom they were meant to honor . Surely there ' s not a dungeon -
slave that ' s buried In the highway , unshrcaded and uncoffin ' d , But lies as soft
...
Page
Ev ' n in the smile of Peace , that smile which sheds A heav ' nly sunshine o ' er
the soul ; there basks That serpent Luxury . War its thousands slays ; Peace its
ten thousands . In ih ' embattled plain , Tho ' Death exults , and claps his raven ...
Ev ' n in the smile of Peace , that smile which sheds A heav ' nly sunshine o ' er
the soul ; there basks That serpent Luxury . War its thousands slays ; Peace its
ten thousands . In ih ' embattled plain , Tho ' Death exults , and claps his raven ...
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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 |