Thomas Gray

Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air.

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

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

From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

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.

Glance their many-twinkling feet.

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

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.

They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.