Gray

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Macmillan, 1915 - 231 ページ
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59 ページ - In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire : The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas ! for other notes repine ; A different object do these eyes require ; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine ; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire...
132 ページ - Girt with many a baron bold, Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old In bearded majesty appear.
80 ページ - Through richest purple to the view Betray'da golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw : A whisker first, and then a claw, With many an ardent wish, She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize, What female heart can gold despise?
57 ページ - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of man : And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
121 ページ - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far ! — but far above the great.
6 ページ - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace...
62 ページ - The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snateh a fearful joy.
115 ページ - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : 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.
79 ページ - Then as to your handsome cat, the name you distinguish her by, I am no less at a loss, as well knowing one's handsome cat is always the cat one likes best; or if one be alive and the other dead, it is usually the latter that is the handsomest. Besides, if the point were never so clear, I hope you do not think me so ill-bred or so imprudent as to forfeit all my interest in the survivor. Oh no! I would rather seem to mistake, and imagine to be sure it must be the tabby one that had met with this sad...
114 ページ - Till April starts, and calls around The sleeping fragrance from the ground, And lightly o'er the living scene Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. New-born flocks, in rustic dance, Frisking ply their feeble feet ; Forgetful of their wintry trance The birds his presence greet : But chief, the sky-lark warbles high His trembling thrilling ecstasy ; And lessening from the dazzled sight, Melts into air and liquid light.

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