The Works of Thomas Gray: Letters |
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Adieu admirable appear arrived beautiful beginning believe called Cambridge church coming continue crossed DEAR desire Duke enter expect extremely eyes famous Florence four give Gray half hand head hear heard hope imagine Italy journey King Lady late least leave letter lines live look Lord manner Mason master mean mention miles month morning mountains nature never night obliged occasion opinion Parma passed perhaps person pleasure Pray present published reason received rest RICHARD WEST road Rome seems seen short side soon sort spirits stay suppose sure taken tell thing THOMAS WHARTON thought told town vast verses Walpole week West whole wish wonder write wrote
Popular passages
Page 268 - Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death, thro...
Page 5 - But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there.
Page 271 - A voice as of the cherub-choir Gales from blooming Eden bear, And distant warblings lessen on my ear That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud...
Page 108 - I have this to say : the language of the age is never the language of poetry ; except among the French, whose verse, where the thought or image does not support it, differs in nothing from prose. Our poetry, on the contrary, has a language peculiar to itself ; to which almost every one, that has written, has added something by enriching it with foreign idioms and derivatives : nay sometimes words of their own composition or invention. Shakespeare and Milton have been great creators this way ; and...
Page 346 - The office itself has always humbled the professor hitherto (even in an age when kings were somebody), if he were a poor writer by making him more conspicuous, and if he were a good one by setting him at war with the little fry of his own profession, for there are poets little enough to envy even a poet-laureat.
Page 268 - Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies ! No pitying heart, no eye afford A tear to grace his obsequies ! Is the sable warrior fled ? — Thy son is gone ; he rests among the dead.
Page 269 - Edward, lo ! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof, the thread is spun !) Half of thy heart we consecrate ; (The web is wove, the work is done...
Page 313 - He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
Page 269 - Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof; The thread is spun;) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove; The work is done.) — Stay, oh stay!