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Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune,

He had not the method of making a fortune;

Could love and could hate, fo was thought fomewhat odd;
No very great wit; he believ'd in a God:

A poft or a penfion he did not defire,

But left church and ftate to Charles Townshend and Squire.
Gray of Himself.

EMBELLISHED WITH SUPERB ENGRAVINGS.

London:

Printed for C. COOKE, No. 17, Paternoter-Row;
And fold by all the Bookfellers in

Great Britain and

Ireland.

THE

POETICAL WORKS

OF

THOMAS GRAY.

CONTAINING HIS

ODES, MISCELLANIES,

&c. &c. &c.

Hark! the Fatal Sifters join----
Hail, ye Midnight Sifters! hail----
O'er the glory of the land,

O'r the innocent and gay,

O'er the Mufes' tuneful band,

Weave the fun'ral web of Gray.

'Tis done-----'tis done-----

He finks, he groans, he falls, a lifeless corfe----
O'er his green grave, in Contemplation's guife,
Oft' let the pilgrim drop a filent tear,
Oft' let the shepherd's tender accents rife,
Big with the fweets of each revolving year,
Till proftrate Time adore his deathlefs name,
Fix'd on the folid bafe of adamantine fame."
J. T. to Mem. of Gray.

London:

PRINTED AND EMBELLISHED
Under the Direction of

C. COOKE.

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