Thomas Gray

"Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy hovering oer Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."

"Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tortring hour The bad affright, afflict the best!"

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

"And weep the more, because I weep in vain."

"What sorrow was, thou badst her know, And from her own she learned to melt at others woe."

"Where his glowing eye−balls turn, Thousand banners round him burn. Where he points his purple spear, Hasty, hasty Rout is there, Marking with indignant eye Fear to stop and shame to fly. There Confusion, Terrors child, Conflict fierce and Ruin wild, Agony that pants for breath, Despair and honourable Death."

"In glittering arms and glory dressed, High he rears his ruby crest. There the thundering strokes begin, There the press and there the din; Talymalfras rocky shore Echoing to the battles roar."

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

"Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The bees collected treasures sweet, Sweet musics melting fall, but sweeter yet The still small voice of gratitude."

"While bright-eyed Science watches round."

"The social smile, the sympathetic tear."

"Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding oer the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwinds sway, That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey."