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Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!
Confusion on thy banners wait!
The Bard. 1.1, Line 1.
2, Line 5. To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Line 14. Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes; Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.2
3, Line 12. Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
The winding-sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room and verge enough 3 The characters of hell to trace.
II. 1, Line 1. Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows;
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
2, Line 9. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
3, Line 11. Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul !
III. 1, Line 11. And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
3, Line 3. Comus and his midnight crew. Ode for Music. Line 2. While bright-eyed Science watches round.
Ibid. Chorus. Line 3. The still small voice of gratitude.
Ibid. V. Line 8.
1 See Cowley, page 261. Milton, page 221.
Iron sleet of arrowy shower
The Fatal Sisters. Line 3.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Slanza 1. Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. Stanza 4. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. Stanza 5. Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor. Stanza 8. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Stanza 9. Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Stanza 10. Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death ? Stanza 11. Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Stanza 12. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 2 Chill penury repress’d their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul. Stanza 13
1 The first edition reads,
“The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea." 2 See Sir Thomas Browne, page 217.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air, 1
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 14. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Stanza 15. The applause of list’ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes. Stanza 16. Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. Stanza 17. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.” Stanza 19. Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Stanza 20. And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign’d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind ? E’en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.3
i See Young, page 311.
Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air. - CHURCHILL: Gotham, book ii. line 20.
2 Usually quoted "even tenor of their way." 8 See Chaucer, page 3.
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 25. One morn I miss'd him on the custom’d hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav’rite tree : Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. Stanza 28. 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.
The Epitaph. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send : He gave to mis’ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
Ibid. No further seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.
Ibid. And weep
Sonnel. On the Death of Mr. West.
A Long Story. The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastised by sabler tints of woe.
Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45. The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Line 53. And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
1 See Walton, page 208.
From toil he wins his spirits light,
Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 93. The social smile, the sympathetic tear.
Education and Gorernment. When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn’d from Bullen's eyes." Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune ; He had not the method of making a fortune.
On his own Character. Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.
To Mr. West. Letter iv. Third Series.
DAVID GARRICK. 1716-1779.
Corrupted freemen are the worst of slaves.
Prologue to the Gamesters. Their cause I plead, — plead it in heart and mind; A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.
Prologue on Quitting the Stage in 1776. Prologues like compliments are loss of time; 'Tis penning bows and making legs in rhyme.
Prologue to Crisp's Tragedy of Virginia. Let others hail the rising sun : I bow to that whose course is run.:
On the Death of Mr. Pelham.
1 This was intended to be introduced in the “ Alliance of Education and Government."' – Mason's edition of Gray, vol. ii. p. 114.
2 See Burton, page 185.
3 Pompey bade Sylla recollect that more worshipped the rising than the setting sun. — PLUTARCH: Life of Pompey.