The grave, a poem. To which are added An elegy in a country church-yard, by Gray. Death, a poem, by bishop Porteus [&c.]. |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 5
Page
O W HILST 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 ...
O W HILST 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 ...
Page 8
Accursed thing ! O where shall fancy find A proper name to call thee by ,
expressive Of all thy horrors ? pregnant womb of ills ! Of temper so
transcendently malign , That toads and serpents of most deadly kind Compar '
THE GRAVE .
Accursed thing ! O where shall fancy find A proper name to call thee by ,
expressive Of all thy horrors ? pregnant womb of ills ! Of temper so
transcendently malign , That toads and serpents of most deadly kind Compar '
THE GRAVE .
Page 8
... And view again the long extinguish ' d day ; Cheer ' d with this pleasing hope , I
safely trust Ch ' Almighty ' s pow ' r to raise me from the dust ; On his unfailing
promises rely , Ind all the horrors of the grave defy ; Death , where ' s thy sting ?
... And view again the long extinguish ' d day ; Cheer ' d with this pleasing hope , I
safely trust Ch ' Almighty ' s pow ' r to raise me from the dust ; On his unfailing
promises rely , Ind all the horrors of the grave defy ; Death , where ' s thy sting ?
Page 22
... beauty with rude hands ; Blasting the foodful grain , the loaded branches , And
marking all along its way with ruin . Accursed thing ! O where shall fancy find A
proper name to call thee by , expressive Of all thy horrors ? pregnant womb of ills
!
... beauty with rude hands ; Blasting the foodful grain , the loaded branches , And
marking all along its way with ruin . Accursed thing ! O where shall fancy find A
proper name to call thee by , expressive Of all thy horrors ? pregnant womb of ills
!
Page
And view again the long extinguish ' d day ; Cheer ' d with this pleasing hope , I
safely trust Th ' Almighty ' s pow ' s to raise me from the dust ; On his unfailing
promises rely , And all the horrors of the grave defy ; | Death , where ' s thy sting ?
And view again the long extinguish ' d day ; Cheer ' d with this pleasing hope , I
safely trust Th ' Almighty ' s pow ' s to raise me from the dust ; On his unfailing
promises rely , And all the horrors of the grave defy ; | Death , where ' s thy sting ?
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
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 |