Thomas Gray

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

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.

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.

Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.

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.

Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.

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.

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?

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.

Commerce changes entirely the fate and genius of nations, by communicating arts and opinions, circulating money, and introducing the materials of luxury; she first opens and polishes the mind, then corrupts and enervates both that and the body.

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.

Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.

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.

Along the cool sequestered vale of life,_x000D_ _x000D_ They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,_x000D_ _x000D_ Less pleasing when possest;_x000D_ _x000D_ The tear forgot as soon as shed,_x000D_ _x000D_ The sunshine of the breast.