Thomas Gray

Daughter of Jove, relentless power, The bad affright, afflict the best!

— Thomas Gray

What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe.

— Thomas Gray

In glittering arms and glory dressed, Echoing to the battle's roar.

— Thomas Gray

Where his glowing eye−balls turn, Despair and honourable Death.

— Thomas Gray

Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose!

— Thomas Gray

Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darkened air.

— Thomas Gray

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.

— Thomas Gray

I shall be but a shrimp of an author.

— Thomas Gray

Comus and his midnight crew.

— Thomas Gray

While bright-eyed Science watches round.

— Thomas Gray

Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The still small voice of gratitude.

— Thomas Gray

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

— Thomas Gray

Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing.

— Thomas Gray

The social smile, the sympathetic tear.

— Thomas Gray

When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.

— Thomas Gray

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.

— Thomas Gray

Behind the steps that Misery treads The strength and harmony of life.

— Thomas Gray

See the wretch that long has tost To him are opening paradise.

— Thomas Gray

And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.

— Thomas Gray

From toil he wins his spirits light, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.

— Thomas Gray

From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.

— Thomas Gray

Glance their many-twinkling feet.

— Thomas Gray

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.

— Thomas Gray

Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Th' unconquerable mind, 3 and freedom's holy flame.

— Thomas Gray

Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid.

— Thomas Gray

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.

— Thomas Gray

He passed the flaming bounds of place and time: Closed his eyes in endless night.

— Thomas Gray

Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

— Thomas Gray

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,—but far above the great.

— Thomas Gray

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade.

— Thomas Gray

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! A momentary bliss bestow.

— Thomas Gray

Still as they run they look behind, And snatch a fearful joy.

— Thomas Gray

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, The sunshine of the breast.

— Thomas Gray

Alas, regardless of their doom, Nor care beyond today.

— Thomas Gray

Ah, tell them they are men!

— Thomas Gray

Grim-visaged comfortless Despair.

— Thomas Gray

And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.

— Thomas Gray

To each his suff'rings: all are men, 'Tis folly to be wise.

— Thomas Gray

'Twas on a lofty vase's side, Gazed on the lake below.

— Thomas Gray

What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish?

— Thomas Gray

No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred; A favourite has no friend!

— Thomas Gray

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes Nor all that glisters gold.

— Thomas Gray

The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

— Thomas Gray

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.

— Thomas Gray

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain.

— Thomas Gray

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

— Thomas Gray

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.

— Thomas Gray

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

— Thomas Gray

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, The short and simple annals of the poor.

— Thomas Gray

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

— Thomas Gray

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

— Thomas Gray

Can storied urn, or animated bust Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

— Thomas Gray

Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

— Thomas Gray

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page And froze the genial current of the soul.

— Thomas Gray

Full many a gem of purest ray serene, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

— Thomas Gray

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

— Thomas Gray

The applause of list'ning senates to command, And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes.

— Thomas Gray

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

— Thomas Gray

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

— Thomas Gray

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

— Thomas Gray

And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.

— Thomas Gray

For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?

— Thomas Gray

E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.

— Thomas Gray

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

— Thomas Gray

One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

— Thomas Gray

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth And Melancholy marked him for her own.

— Thomas Gray

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, He gained from Heav'n ('twas all he wished) a friend.

— Thomas Gray

No farther seek his merits to disclose, The bosom of his Father and his God.

— Thomas Gray

No further seek his merits to disclose, The bosom of his Father and his God.

— Thomas Gray

Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! They mock the air with idle state.

— Thomas Gray

Helm nor hauberk's twisted mail, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!

— Thomas Gray

To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

— Thomas Gray

Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes; Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.

— Thomas Gray

Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The Characters of hell to trace.

— Thomas Gray

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

— Thomas Gray

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.

— Thomas Gray

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

— Thomas Gray

Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

— Thomas Gray

The verse adorn again And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.

— Thomas Gray