Poetical Works: To which is Prefixed an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, Volumen2

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Página 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Página 192 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Página 190 - The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Página 198 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies. Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Página 204 - 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. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Página 200 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Página 198 - Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Mufe, The place of fame and elegy fupply : And many a holy text around fhe ftrews, That teach the ruftic moralift to dye.
Página 196 - Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to defpife, To fcatter plenty o'er a fmiling land, And read their...
Página 190 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Página 198 - For thee, who mindful of th' unhonour'd dead Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall...

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