To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
More Quotes from Thomas Gray:
To hide her cares her only art Her pleasure, pleasures to impart.Thomas Gray
A fav'rite has no friend.
Thomas Gray
The language of the age is never the language of poetry, except among the French, whose verse, where the thought or image does not support it, differs in nothing from prose.
Thomas Gray
The social smile, the sympathetic tear.
Thomas Gray
And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
Thomas Gray
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, he had not the method of making a fortune.
Thomas Gray
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