Related:

• 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...
• Glance their many-twinkling feet.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Progress of Poesy, I, 3, Line 11...
• And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest. -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, III, 3, Line 3
• Ye distant spires, ye antique towers.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- On a Distant Prospect of Eton College, Stanza 1...
• 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...
• Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
  Give ample room and verge enough The characters of hell to trace....
• To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- The Bard, I, 2, Line 14...
• Comus and his midnight crew. -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Ode for Music, Line 2