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Gregorian
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This letter is part of the correspondence calendar of the complete correspondence of Thomas Gray. The calendar contains detailed bibliographic records for all known original, copied, or published letters written by or to the poet as well as the full-text, where available. Each record is accompanied by digitised images of the manuscript, where available, or digitised images of the first printed edition.
Alas! how do I every moment feel the truth of what I have somewhere read: Ce n'est pas le voir que de s'en
souvenir, and yet that remembrance is the only satisfaction I have left. My life now is but a perpetual conversation with your
shadow.–The known sound of your voice still rings in my ears.–There, on the corner of the fender you are standing, or
tinkling on the Pianoforte, or stretch'd at length on the sofa.–Do you reflect, my dearest Friend, that it is a week or eight
days, before I can receive a letter from you and as much more before you can have my answer, that all that time (with more than
Herculean toil) I am employ'd in pushing the tedious hours along, and wishing to annihilate them; the more I strive, the heavier they
move and the longer they grow. I can not bear this place, where I have spent many tedious years within less than a month, since you
left me. I am going for a few days to see poor Nicholls invited by a letter, wherein he mentions you in such terms, as add to my regard
for him, and express my own sentiments better than I can do myself. 'I am concern'd (says he) that I
can not pass my life with him, I never met with any one that pleased and suited me so well: the miracle to me is, how he comes to be so
little spoil'd, and the miracle of miracles will be, if he continues so in the midst of every danger and seduction, and without any
advantages, but from his own excellent nature and understanding. I own, I am very anxious for him on this account, and perhaps your
inquietude may have proceeded from the same cause. I hope, I am to hear, when he has pass'd that cursed sea, or will he forget me thus
in insulam relegatum? If he should, it is out of my power to retaliate.'
Sure you have wrote to him, my dear Bonstetten, or sure you will! he has moved me with these gentle and sensible expressions of his kindness for you. Are you untouch'd by them?
You do me the credit (and false or true, it goes to my heart) of ascribing to me your love for many virtues of the highest rank.
Would to heaven it were so; but they are indeed the fruits of your own noble and generous understanding, that has hitherto struggled
against the stream of custom, passion, and ill company, even when you were but a Child, and will you now give way to that stream, when
your strength is increased? Shall the Jargon of French Sophists, the allurements of painted women comme il faut,
or the vulgar caresses of prostitute beauty, the property of all, that can afford to purchase it, induce you to give up a mind and body
by Nature distinguish'd from all others to folly, idleness, disease, and vain remorse? Have a care, my ever-amiable Friend, of loving, what you do not approve, and know me for your most faithful and most humble Despote.