Related:

• 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...
• 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...
• 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...
• Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Progress of Poesy, III, 3, Line 2...
• Glance their many-twinkling feet.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Progress of Poesy, I, 3, Line 11...
• Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Fatal Sisters, Line 3...
• While bright-eyed Science watches round.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Ode for Music, Chorus, Line 3...
• To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, I, 2, Line 14...
• From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Progress of Poesy, I, 1, Line 3...