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When first thy Sire to send on earth Virtue , his darling child , defign ' d To thee he
gave the heavenly birth , And bade to form her infant mind . Stern rugged nurse !
thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore : What sorrow was , thou bad ...
I . 3 . of Thee the voice , the dance obey , Temper ' d to thy warbled lay . O ' er
Idalia ' s velvet - green The rosy - crowned loves are seen On Cytherea ' s day en
With antic Sports , and blue - ey ' d. * This is a weak imitation of some beautiful ...
tis heard no more Oh ! Lyre divine , what daring spirit Wakes thee now ? tho he
inherit Nor the pride , nor ample pinion , * That the Theban Eagle bear , Sailing
with fupreme dominion Through the azure deep of air : lor azul * Words that weep
Thomas Gray. THE B A B D . A PINDARIC OD E . I . 1 . RUIN seize thee , ruthless
King . Confusion on thy banners wait ; s Tho ' fann ' d by Conquest ' s crimson
wing , 5 * They mock the air with idle state ! • Helm , nor * Hauberk ' s twisted mail.
O ' er thee , oh King ! their hundred arms they wave , « Revenge on thee in
hoarser murmurs breathe ; « Vocal no more , fince Cambria ' s fatal day , • To
high - born Hoel ' s harp , or soft Llewellyn ' s lay . . 1 . 3 . Cold is Cadwallo ' s
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I can remember my mother reciting Elegy written in a country church-yard - not all of it though. This poem seemed to mean a lot to her. She never reached the line: 'The path of glory leads but to the grave'. レビュー全文を読む