Quote

Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

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
Voice
Dull
Mansion
Death
Breath
Bust
Back
Breaths
Provoke
Dust
Mansions
Ears
Provoking
Silent
Animated
Cold
Fleeting
Storied
Call
Honour
Soothe

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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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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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As to posterity, I may ask what has it ever done to oblige me?
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Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.
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We frolic while 'tis May.
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The different steps and degrees of education may be compared to the artificer's operations upon marble it is one thing to dig it out of the quarry, and another to square it, to give it gloss and lustre, call forth every beautiful spot and vein, shape it into a column, or animate it into a statue.
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Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
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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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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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And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
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Thought would destroy their paradise.
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The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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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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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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And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
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Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
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One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
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In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
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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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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
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