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Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

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
Living
Hands
Might
Waked
Life
Lyre
Sway
Empire
Ecstasy
Empires

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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
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One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
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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.
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The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.
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Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
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T'was Spring, t'was Summer, all was gay Now Autumn bears a cloud brow The flowers of Spring are swept way And Summer fruits desert the bough
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But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
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Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
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Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize Nor all that glisters gold.
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And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
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And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
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Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
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The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.
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How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
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Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
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Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,/ The bee's collected treasure sweet,/ Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet/ The still small voice of gratitude.
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Thought would destroy their paradise.
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To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
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