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 5
What a strange moment must it be , when near Thy journey ' s end , thou hast the
gulph in view ! That awful gulf no mortal e ' er repass ' d , To tell what ' s doing on
the other side ! Nature runs back , and shudders at the sight , And every life ...
What a strange moment must it be , when near Thy journey ' s end , thou hast the
gulph in view ! That awful gulf no mortal e ' er repass ' d , To tell what ' s doing on
the other side ! Nature runs back , and shudders at the sight , And every life ...
Page 45
... overtakes his fellows ; Who gather round , and wonder at the tale Of horrid
apparition , tall and ghastly , Who walks at dead of night , or takes his stand . O '
er some new open ' d grave ; and , strange to telll Evanishes at crowing of the
cock .
... overtakes his fellows ; Who gather round , and wonder at the tale Of horrid
apparition , tall and ghastly , Who walks at dead of night , or takes his stand . O '
er some new open ' d grave ; and , strange to telll Evanishes at crowing of the
cock .
Page 17
... 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 ? ' T is long since death had the majority ; Yet , strange ! the living
lay it ...
... 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 ? ' T is long since death had the majority ; Yet , strange ! the living
lay it ...
Page 20
Blessed , thrice blessed day ! but ah , how short ! Bless ' d as the pleasing
dreams of holy men , But fugitive , like those , and quickly gone . O slipp ' ry state
of things ! what sudden turns , What strange vicissitudes , in the first leafi Of man
20 ...
Blessed , thrice blessed day ! but ah , how short ! Bless ' d as the pleasing
dreams of holy men , But fugitive , like those , and quickly gone . O slipp ' ry state
of things ! what sudden turns , What strange vicissitudes , in the first leafi Of man
20 ...
Page 21
What strange vicissitudes , in the first leafi Of man ' s sad history ! to - day most
happy , And ere to - morrow ' s sun has set , most abject ! How scant the space
between these vast extremes ! Thus far ' d it with our sire : not long he enjoy ' d
His ...
What strange vicissitudes , in the first leafi Of man ' s sad history ! to - day most
happy , And ere to - morrow ' s sun has set , most abject ! How scant the space
between these vast extremes ! Thus far ' d it with our sire : not long he enjoy ' d
His ...
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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...