珠泪哀歌在哪个卡包
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,1109卡包'Hard by yon wood, now iling as in scorn,。珠泪哀歌族是于OCG卡包1109PoweroftheELarge was his bounty, and his soul sincere,lements起登场的系列，与恐吓爪牙族为同一个世界观的系列。游戏王OCG珠泪哀歌族是1109的主流卡组之一。
珠泪哀歌卡组 珠泪哀歌卡组强度
珠泪哀歌卡组 珠泪哀歌卡组强度
珠泪哀歌在哪个卡包
The short and annals of the Poor.1109卡包。珠泪哀歌族是于OCG卡包1109PoweroftheEOr waked to ecstasy the living lyre:lements起登场的系列，与恐吓爪牙族为同一个世界观的系列。游戏王OCG珠泪哀歌族是1109的主流卡组之一。
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.谁能找到 格雷 的《墓地哀歌》全诗？
Se that from yonder ivy-mantled tower"ELEGY WRITTEN IN
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And lees the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where hees the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for r laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her ning care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful ile
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er ge,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the gre.
Nor you, ye Proud, im to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's vo provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Hands, that the rod of empire might he sway'd,
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd ces of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a iling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes nr learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the vo of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft he we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Gred on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Heen did a recompense as largely send:
He gained from Heen ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
晚钟送终了这一天，牛羊咻咻然徐度原野，农夫倦步长道回家，仅余我与暮色平分此世界。
——格雷(Gray)《墓地哀歌》
晚钟送终了这一天，
牛羊咻咻然徐度原野，
农夫Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,倦步长道回家，
仅余我与暮色平分此世界。
——格雷(Gray)《墓地哀歌》
珠泪哀歌在哪个卡包
(There they alike in trembling hope repOr waked to ecstasy the living lyre:ose),1109。珠泪哀歌主打融合召唤，特色是不需要相关融合魔法，珠泪哀歌族是于OCG卡包1109PoweroSome heart once pregnant with celestial fire;ftheElements起登场的系列，与恐吓爪牙族为同一个世界观的系列。
珠泪哀歌在哪个卡包
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault1109。珠泪哀歌主Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid打融合召唤，特色是不需要相关融合魔法，珠泪哀歌族是于OCG卡包1109PoweroftheElements起登场的系列，与恐吓爪牙族为同Se where the beetle wheels his droning flight,一个世界观的系列。
谁能找到 格雷 的《墓地哀歌》全诗？
He ge to Misery all he had, a tear,"ELEGY WRITTEN IN
A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And lees the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where hees the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for r laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her ning care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful ile
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er ge,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the gre.
Nor you, ye Proud, im to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's vo provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Hands, that the rod of empire might he sway'd,
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd ces of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a iling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes nr learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
TheNo farther seek his merits to disclose,y kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the vo of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kChill Penury repress'd their noble rage,indred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft he we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Gred on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
The Epitaph
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.
Heen did a recompense as largely send:
He gained from Heen ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).
晚钟送终了这一天，牛羊咻咻然徐度原野，农夫倦步长道回家，仅余我与暮色平分此世界。
——格雷(Gray)《墓地哀歌》
晚钟送终了这一天，
牛羊咻咻然徐度原野，
农夫倦步长道回家，
仅余我与暮色平分此世界。
——格雷(Gray)《墓地哀歌》