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• Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, III, 1, Line 11...
• 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....
• Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, II, 3, Line 11...
• I have a soul that like an ample shield Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
  -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- Don Sebastian, Act i, Sc. 1...
• And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest. -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, III, 3, Line 3
• To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, I, 2, Line 14...
• Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Progress of Poesy, III, 1, Line 12...
• Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows; While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm
  Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey....
• Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes; Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, I, 3, Line 12...