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More quotes by Thomas Warton
Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding ways
Of hoar antiquity, but strown with flowers.
Sonnet Written in a Blank Leaf of Dugdale's Monasticon (1777)
"The Progress of Discontent" (1750), line 39.
Ye fetted pinnacles, ye fanes sublime,
Ye towers that wear the mossy vest of time;
Ye massy piles of old munificence,
At once the pride of learning and defence;
Ye cloisters pale, that, lengthening to the sight,
To contemplation, step by step, invite;
Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays
Her holy hymns of everlasting praise -
Hail ! Oxford, hail !
Triumph of Isis (1749)
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