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?
Thomas Gray (1716 - 1771)
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11.
Contributed by: Zaady
And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
Source: Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude. Line 87.
The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastised by sabler tints of woe.
Source: Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45.
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.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28.
Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.
Source: The Bard. I. 1, Line 1.
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.
Source: Sketch of His Own Character
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.
Source: The Epitaph.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 5.
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.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 1.
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