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In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.

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
Grief
Tyrant
Move
Pleasing
Pain
Measures
Moving
Breast
Tyrants
Pale
Breasts
Horror
Throbbing

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One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
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Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
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Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
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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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Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
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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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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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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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To each his suff'rings: all are men, / Condemn'd alike to groan, / The tender for another's pain / Th' unfeeling for his own.
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I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
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And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
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Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
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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?
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Ah, tell them they are men!
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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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To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
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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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