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Poems. Selections

 
dc.contributor Burnard, Lou Computing Service, University of Oxford
dc.contributor.author Gray, Thomas, 1716-1771
dc.date.accessioned 2018-07-27
dc.date.accessioned 2022-08-21T15:53:41Z
dc.date.available 2022-08-21T15:53:41Z
dc.date.created 1747-1777
dc.identifier ota:0065
dc.identifier.uri http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/0065
dc.description.abstract Mode of access: Online. OTA website Title proper taken from first three titles in electronic text Contents: Ode on the spring. Ode on the death of a favourite cat. Ode on a distant prospect of Eton College. Hymn to adversity. The progress of poesy : a pindaric ode. The bard : a pindaric ode. The fatal sisters : an ode. The descent of Odin : an ode. The triumphs of Owen : a fragment. Elegy written in a country churchyard. A long story. The candidate. Ode for music
dc.format.extent Text data (1 file : ca. 42.3 KB)
dc.format.medium Digital bitstream
dc.language English
dc.language.iso eng
dc.publisher University of Oxford
dc.relation.ispartof Oxford Text Archive Legacy Collection
dc.rights Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
dc.rights.uri http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
dc.rights.label PUB
dc.subject.lcsh Poems -- Great Britain -- 18th century
dc.title Poems. Selections
dc.type Text
has.files yes
branding Oxford Text Archive
files.size 43417
files.count 1
identifier.ee Gray, Thomas, 1716-1771 http://dx.doi.org/10.13051/ee:bio/graythoma0004302
identifier.lccn Gray, Thomas, 1716-1771 http://id.loc.gov/authorities/names/n79089789
otaterms.date.range 1700-1799

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<A GRAY><V 1><L 0><E 1748><R 1>
ODE +
ON THE +
SPRING.
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair VENUS' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckow's note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader browner shade;
Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
O'er canopies the glade,
<P 20>
Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
(At ease reclin'd in rustic state)
How vain the ardour of the Crowd,
How low,how little are the Proud,
How indigent the Great!
Still is the toiling hand of Care:
The panting herds repose:
Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air
The busy murmur glows!
The insect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring,
And float amid the liquid noon:
Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some shew their gayly . . .
										

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