Quote

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

Thomas Gray

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Pale
Breasts
Horror
Throbbing
Grief
Tyrant
Move
Pleasing
Pain
Measures
Moving
Breast
Tyrants

More quotes by Thomas Gray

Image
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Thomas Gray
Image
Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
Image
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.
Thomas Gray
Image
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Thomas Gray
Image
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Thomas Gray
Image
Thought would destroy their paradise.
Thomas Gray
Image
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Thomas Gray
Image
Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.
Thomas Gray
Image
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
Image
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.
Thomas Gray
Image
I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
Thomas Gray
Image
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.
Thomas Gray
Image
To each his suff'rings all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan,- The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more where ignorance is bliss, 'T is folly to be wise.
Thomas Gray
Image
Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
Thomas Gray
Image
How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
Thomas Gray
Image
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Thomas Gray
Image
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize Nor all that glisters gold.
Thomas Gray
Image
And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
Thomas Gray
Image
The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.
Thomas Gray
Image
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?
Thomas Gray