Quote

The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes.

Thomas Gray

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Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Eyes
Ruins
Scatter
Nations
Lists
Threats
Eye
Command
Applause
Read
Plenty
Smiling
Pain
Historical
Ruin
History
Threat
Despise
Nation
Senate
Land
List
Ning

More quotes by Thomas Gray

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The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.
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Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
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In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
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Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
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To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
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Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly rising o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
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How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
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Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
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And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
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Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
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For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?
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Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
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When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
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Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.
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I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
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Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
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E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
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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.
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