Thomas Gray was an English poet.Letter writer and professor.
Thomas Gray was born on 26 December 1716 in Karanhill London and died on 1771 30 July in Cambridge, England.His father’s name was Philip Gray and his mother’s name was Dorothy Antrobus.
Thomas’ mother took divorce from her because of her husband’s abusive nature.
Thomas Gray and his mother started living together and Thomas left his father.
Thomas Gray Uncle William educat it.After this Thomas Gray took admission in Eton College.All the expanses of Eton College were paid by his mother.Thomas took admission in Peterhouse, Cambridge in 1734.
He liked Cambridge and its curriculum, Thomas told his friends about it, In 1738, without taking a degree from Cambridge, he left Cambridge.In 1738, Thomas toured Europe with his old school friend Walpole. Walpole paid the expenses of this tour.
Thomas Gray started writing poems in 1742.When his friend Richard West died In 1742, Thomas wrote a poem on his friend’s death called “Sonnet on the Death of Richard West”. After this Thomas shifted to Cambridge and worked as a professor at Peterhouse.This is the same Cambridge in which he studied
At this time Thomas Gray was the most excellent person in Cambridge.
Thomas Gray produced less work in his life.If all his works are collected, then he is less than a thousand lines.Thomas Gray focused on quality in all the poems he wrote.Thomas Gray himself wrote that
He didn’t write many works so that they didn’t have too many mistakes.
Thomas’ friend Walpole said that Thomas did not write anything easily
Thomas wrote only 13 poems in his life.
in 1747 Thomas wrote his poem “ode on the death of a favourite cat.
in 1750 Thomas wrote his most famous poem “elegy written in a country churchyard”
in 1754 Thomas wrote his pindaric ode “the progress of poesy”
In 1757 he was offered the Laureate, but he refused to be Poet Laureate.
Thomas Gray is include in “Graveyard” Poets. because they wrote about mostly death Graveyard Poet’s. was included in oliver goldsmith.William cowper. Christopher smart.Thomas Gray in his All Poems wrote Mostly About Death and Morality.
Thomas wrote his ode “The Fatal Sisters” in 1761
He died on 30 July 1771 at Cambridge.He is buried in St Giles Church. Thomas achieved fame in his lifewith this poem
(elegy written in a country churchyard).
The Fatal Sisters: An Ode
BY THOMAS GRAY
(FROM THE NORSE TONGUE)
Now the storm begins to lower,
(Haste, the loom of Hell prepare.)
Iron-sleet of arrowy shower
Hurtles in the darken’d air.
Glitt’ring lances are the loom,
Where the dusky warp we strain,
Weaving many a soldier’s doom,
Orkney’s woe, and Randver’s bane.
See the grisly texture grow,
(‘Tis of human entrails made,)
And the weights, that play below,
Each a gasping warrior’s head.
Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,
Shoot the trembling cords along.
Sword, that once a monarch bore,
Keep the tissue close and strong.
Mista black, terrific maid,
Sangrida, and Hilda see,
Join the wayward work to aid:
Tis the woof of victory.
Ere the ruddy sun be set,
Pikes must shiver, javelins sing,
Blade with clatt’ring buckler meet,
Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.
(Weave the crimson web of war)
Let us go, and let us fly,
Where our friends the conflict share,
Where they triumph, where they die.
As the paths of fate we tread,
Wading thro’ th’ ensanguin’d field:
Gondula, and Geira, spread
O’er the youthful king your shield.
We the reins to slaughter give,
Ours to kill, and ours to spare:
Spite of danger he shall live.
(Weave the crimson web of war.)
They, whom once the desert-beach
Pent within its bleak domain,
Soon their ample sway shall stretch
O’er the plenty of the plain.
Low the dauntless earl is laid
Gor’d with many a gaping wound:
Fate demands a nobler head;
Soon a king shall bite the ground.
Long his loss shall Erin weep,
Ne’er again his likeness see;
Long her strains in sorrow steep,
Strains of immortality.
Horror covers all the heath,
Clouds of carnage blot the sun.
Sisters, weave the web of death;
Sisters, cease, the work is done.
Hail the task, and hail the hands!
Songs of joy and triumph sing!
Joy to the victorious bands;
Triumph to the younger king.
Mortal, thou that hear’st the tale,
Learn the tenor of our song.
Scotland thro’ each winding vale
Far and wide the notes prolong.
Sisters, hence with spurs of speed:
Each her thund’ring falchion wield;
Each bestride her sable steed.
Hurry, hurry to the field.